


Bittersweet

by appleslovetea



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst is love, Asami and Akihito are both too stubborn for their own good, Beware of Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleslovetea/pseuds/appleslovetea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a nasty breakup, Asami receives some unexpected news regarding Akihito. Despite his better judgment, he decides to go  see him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART I

You are a practical, no-nonsense man, yet you know you’ve been lying to yourself all week.

As much as you’ve tried to deny it, you knew the moment you received the invitation for the photography exhibition that you’d be attending it not because your associates have been nagging you to check out the fancy hotel where it’s being held, in the hopes you consider purchasing it, but because you knew _he_ would attend it.

How could he not? His name is headlining the exhibition.

Takaba Akihito, 2-time winner of the prestigious World Press Photo Award. He’s the talk of the whole town and for one night only his acclaimed photographs are being put up on display at the hotel’s VIP gallery, summoning to them the cream of Tokyo’s society, with eyes intent on admiring and critiquing in equal measure.

And so here you are as well, in your best suit and your best manners, engaging in the usual bland small talk with associates and acquaintances alike, while you pretend to give a rat’s ass about the charity organization that will be awarded the profits of the photographs’ auction later in the evening.

It’s 7 pm, you are already on your third flute of Dom Perignon, and by now you are acutely aware that you’re being stared at from three different spots in the room.

Two women and one man comprise tonight’s panel of interested parties.

You snicker under your breath. “ _Let them stare_ ”, you think. You’re used to being coveted by strangers’ eyes. But if any of them is thinking that they’re going to get anything from you tonight, they are sorely mistaken. Sex is not on your mind today.

In truth, sex hasn’t been on your mind for the past few months. A fact that would baffle anyone, if they were to learn that (let’s face it) you’ve spent the better part of the last two years fucking every willing man and woman who crossed your way.

Did you do it out of spite? Out of guilt? Because you were trying to fill some deep void he left you with inside?

You don’t care to know the reasons. You have neither time nor patience for psychoanalysis after all. You are Asami Ryuichi. You are who you are, you do what you do, and the world can either try to handle you or bend to your will… And everyone knows the latter normally takes precedence over the former.

A wave of cheers suddenly erupts on the other side of the room and you’re thankful for the excuse it provides for you to turn your back on the group of corporate CEOs clinging to you like leeches this evening. One more word about the current state of the financial markets and you’ll start punching people in the face.

Your glass is on its way to your lips when the crowd in front of the gallery’s entrance doors parts ways and you finally spot the recipient of the cheers, advancing slowly through the throng of VIPs, looking equally thankful and embarrassed by the attention he’s receiving.

Your expression softens despite yourself. Some people never change and if there is one thing Akihito never felt comfortable with, it was being the center of attention of any group. He’s a photojournalist after all, and photojournalists tend to be infinitely more comfortable in the shadows rather than in the spotlight.

He hasn’t spotted you yet, that much is clear, but you’re in no hurry to precipitate the moment. Instead, you content yourself with watching him from a safe distance, trying to spot differences in him from when you last saw him.

It’s mid-May now and his birthday was but a couple of weeks ago. Not just any birthday, mind you. The big 3 0. Still, you find it amusing how Akihito manages to look much the same as he did back when you two first met 7 years ago.

You have a feeling he’s one of those people who will always retain a boyish appearance about him, no matter how old he grows.

He looks smart in his designer suit, flashy even, but you can tell straight away from the awkwardness of his posture that he’d much rather have attended the ceremony clad in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

You suppose the suit was _her_ idea, and for a split second your gaze shifts towards the female ‘appendix’ clinging to your ex-lover’s arm as if she is marking him a part of her turf.

You’re somewhat surprised to find that the scene does not affect you as much now as it did in the past, when you had not yet ordered your private detective to dig into her life, and as such did not yet know a thing about her. (As I’ve mentioned before, you are a practical man and practical men like to know their enemies).

Deep down you want to hate her, hate her youth, her personality, her no doubt fertile womb waiting to pop carbon copies of Akihito out into the world, but then you remember that you are Asami Ryuichi, and that hatred is a pitiful feeling which is beneath someone like you. Only weak people let hatred consume them.

No, at best you are curious about her, but that is all.

Not even a tad jealous then? “ _Of course not_.”, you think. After all, you've never felt jealous of anyone or anything in the 42 years you’ve been alive... You’re not about to start now.

She’s an odd beauty. Not exactly a show stopper, but her eyes do nothing to conceal a glow and curiosity about the world that seems to fascinate all around her. You assume _that_ is what he saw in her; her eyes carry the same spark he carries in his own.

Plus, she seems fun, smiles a lot, although you suppose that if you yourself were a 20 something young woman about to get married in a couple of days’ time, you too would be smiling.

Then again, you’re not the type who smiles; you’re the type who grins.

Your mind travels back to the precise moment three weeks ago when your downfall started to take shape.

You have to give credit to your assistant though. Kirishima did attempt to break the news to you as gently as he could.

Funny enough, in the end he did not have to utter a word about it. For you could instantly tell by the look on Kirishima’s face as he entered your office room that morning, your breakfast in one hand and the daily newspaper on the other, that Akihito was lost to you for good.

Dead or to wed, you thought immediately.

Jokingly you advanced the second option, the first one being far too inadmissible to your mind.

It turned out you were right...

Your assistant was wise to leave you alone shortly after, the newspaper in front of you spread out on the social events’ pages which announced the upcoming wedded bliss of socialite Shinomori Mayu, the Japanese minister of foreign affairs’ daughter, with the famous award winning photographer Takaba Akihito.

Minister Shinomori’s daughter, how ironic.

You secretly wondered if the newspaper would have been so quick to felicitate the happy couple, if they were to learn that the bride-to-be’s famous father is in fact a corrupt politician who often hires your services to deal in international arms trafficking on his behalf.

But you know it is unfair to blame the daughter for the father’s sins. After all, you never blamed yourself for the sins committed by your yakuza father.

You don’t remember how long you sat on your office chair, with the newspaper on your lap and your eyes fixed on the couples’ latest public picture.

You didn’t get much work done, that much you recall. You spent the day with a glass and a bottle of Scotch, watching the golden liquid disappear from the bottle as the hours went on.

You remember feeling numb though, so numb that you no longer felt the urge to repress past memories, and so you ended up playing the scenes from your breakup two years before over and over again in your mind.

How did it all come to pass exactly?

Oh yeah,.. it all started with the photograph Kuroda found at Sakazaki’s office, when it was raided by the police on a drug felony charge.

The photo itself was of no interest to the police. It was just one among many others hidden away in a stash they found, all of them depicting Sakazaki having ‘fun’ with multiple different young men.

The cops just took it as proof that the drug dealer was also a pervert. Kuroda, however, was smarter than that. It was obvious to him that the photos were used as a form of blackmail against the young men they portrayed.

He never said anything to you, but you know Kuroda was just as surprised as you were to learn that your lover was part of the sordid collection.

You confronted Akihito that same night with the evidence of his betrayal. The two of you argued… a lot, had angry sex, and then argued some more. You’re aware you made him feel as if he was nothing more than an object to you that night; you’re aware that when he left you the next morning, eyes clouded with tears he was too stubborn to let run freely, his heart was broken,… but so was yours.   

Shattered, bleeding, to the point you didn’t recognize it as belonging to you anymore.

You didn’t go after him.

For two days you couldn’t even bear to pronounce his name out loud, but you knew that eventually he’d come back to you.

He always did, no matter how ugly things got.

In the meantime you threw yourself back to work, kept your mind busy, making up for the recent bout of unproductivity on your part.

Days turned into weeks though, and still no sign of Akihito.

Still then you didn’t worry. Your fight had been an ugly one after all. You had said some pretty nasty things to each other, but time would eventually heal everything.

You hired a private detective to keep an eye on him, fearful the kid would get himself into trouble while he was out from under your wing, went back to work and when you next checked two months had passed and still nothing.

It was around that time that the detective sent in a different kind of report from the usual ones where he merely detailed the small professional hassles Akihito faced on a daily basis.

One day, a note appeared at the end of a report mentioning that Akihito had been spotted going out with a young woman.

From then on you asked to be provided with daily reports, and consciously used to skip all the work related paragraphs, reading but those where the detective detailed Akihito’s supposed ‘love’ life.

When one of the reports you received mentioned that the same young woman had been seen leaving Akihito’s Shinjuku apartment at two in the morning, your perfect mask of control began to crack.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You took action.

The following night Kirishima drove you to the downtown bar area where Akihito was working part-time.

You stood vigilant, eyes like those of a fox glued to the entrance of the _izakaya_ where your lover worked at, and you waited. What for, is something that till this day you cannot tell for sure.

You could hear your MontBlanc wristwatch ticking away the minutes and still you waited.

Kirishima never said a word to you. Perhaps _he_ could tell why it was that you were there, at half past midnight, concealed behind the limo’s dark windows. He seemed to understand you better than you understood yourself those days.

Your wristwatch had just ticked away 1 am when you suddenly heard Akihito’s voice.

You heard his voice before you saw him, and were forced to acknowledge the jolt that electrified your heart at the sound.

Your pulse quickened as he finally came into view, exiting the _izakaya_ , mid-way of putting on his coat, still talking animatedly over his shoulder to someone left inside; the establishment’s owner perhaps.

His hair was slightly longer, he seemed to have lost weight, and in the midst of these observations your hand was flying to the door handle so fast you barely had time to register the action.

You opened your mouth, called out his name, but it wasn’t your voice he heard.

Confused, you looked beyond him towards the end of the street, and that’s when you saw _her_ for the first time; smiling, waiving, and you soon heard Akihito’s name being pronounced again; her sweet, melodic voice as painful to you as a punch in the stomach.

The woman walked towards your lover, her eyes glowing, and stopped right in front of him.

A small moment of awkwardness ensued. She looked uncertainly at Akihito, Akihito looked uncertainly at her, both apparently not knowing what to do next.

You saw him massage the back of his neck with his hand, a sign you knew meant he was nervous, but then out of the blue he lowered his head and kissed her on the lips.

You could instantly tell it wasn’t their first kiss,… one of the firsts maybe, but definitely not _the_ first.

You twitched then, you’re sure you twitched. You know you gripped the door handle until your knuckles turned white, but outwardly that was the extent of your reaction to the scene.

Inwardly, your cells were on overdrive, your organs close to shutting down, but still you didn’t move.

You didn’t get out of the car, you didn’t march towards Akihito, you didn’t pick him up, throw him over your shoulder, and calmly walk back to the limo with your lover kicking you on the ribs and shouting at you to put him down.

Why?

Because looking at the couple standing on the other side of the road, you noticed something which shattered you inside.

You noticed that Akihito was smiling,… and that he looked happy and carefree.

Happier and more carefree than he’d ever looked while he was by your side, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of making him unhappy.

You suddenly realized Akihito was the most important person in the world to you; that his happiness was more important to you than your own.

You suddenly realized you were deeply and unequivocally in love with him and that you were doomed to love him for the rest of your life.

Feeling exhausted all of a sudden, you sank into the backseat of the limo, your eyes coming to rest on the ceiling above your head. You opened your mouth intent on uttering a command out loud, but soon realized the limo was on the move again.

No doubt Kirishima had witnessed the scene too from the driver’s seat, and so had spared you the need of verbally giving him the order to move along, knowing that at that moment your voice might not have sounded as steady and confident as was always the norm.   

Your assistant always did know you well.

Thankful, you closed your eyes and let exhaustion lull you to sleep...

You could go further on your trip down memory lane, but there isn’t much else worthy of note.

When a report arrived a few days later, mentioning that the young woman, whose name you had learned in the meantime, had spent her first full night at Akihito’s apartment, you dismissed the detective’s services for good and went on with your life.

You worked, you ate, you slept, you worked some more, and somewhere along the way you turned 41, and then 42.

You moved to a new penthouse, you travelled several times abroad, you made new business deals, enlarged your fortune and more than often, you slept around.

Never twice with the same person though, and never at your home; you don’t want to give any of them an inkling of hope that they are somehow special to you; that they somehow matter.

You have spent the last two years in a daze and now you are here, in a crowded gallery, filled with people you can barely tolerate to socialize with, waiting for your ex-lover’s eyes to fall on you.

It takes another 5 minutes, but they eventually do, and when it happens, the ghost of what resembles a smile appears on your lips, because Akihito’s countenance changes immediately and drastically.

He’s shocked, he’s surprised, he’s tense, but more than anything he’s unable to move, stopping mid-sentence to stare at you from the other side of the gap that opened among the crowd of people who surround him at present, wanting to know more about his photographs.

His fiancée is quick to notice  something is wrong, yet it is clear to you she has no clue what it might be from the way she inconspicuously touches his arm, trying to draw back his attention to her.

You find yourself reveling at that. She still can’t read him as well as you do. She might have been his lover for the past two years, but he was your lover for the better part of five.

“Asami-san.” Your associate’s nagging voice calls you to attention.

The man is afraid to voice his concerns out loud, but you know he wants you to make a decision regarding the hotel deal.

“Go ahead and arrange for the deal.” You say to him, your voice calm and professional; your gaze not for a second leaving Akihito’s. “I’ll buy the hotel…and everything in it.”

You don’t register the relieved look on the man’s face as you hand him your empty champagne glass and slowly walk away.

You don’t register pretty much anything besides the look on Akihito’s face as you exit the gallery in the direction of the hotel’s lobby.

You lost him, you know you lost him, but at least you know now that you’ve left an imprint in his life, that you were not forgotten.

For it wasn’t indifference you saw in his eyes as he regarded you just now from across the gallery.

It was pain…And you know better than anyone that pain is bittersweet.

(to be continued...)


	2. PART II

It’s the night before the wedding and you’ve decided to celebrate the occasion by drowning your liver in alcohol at Dracaena.

 

Why not?

 

You’re the club’s owner. It’s not like you’ll get charged for the drinks.

 

You have a feeling the plan sounded really good to you this morning when you first thought of it, but by now you’re starting to suspect there isn’t nearly enough alcohol at the bar to get you drunk.

 

For some reason your mind is just refusing to shutdown, no matter how many drinks you take.

 

You are aware that your employees have started giving you side glances, wondering what kind of test their boss is putting them through. You don’t often sit at Dracaena’s tables and order drinks like you’re a regular costumer after all. It makes sense that they think something’s up.

 

You eventually reason that the staff has convinced itself you’re making them go through some sort of ‘customer quality service’ test, because you can tell the waiters and bartenders are being extremely attentive to your needs…a little too attentive perhaps.

 

The drinks keep on coming, the empty glasses keep on being discreetly removed from your table, your favorite jazz music is playing in the background, the sweet smell of expensive Tabaco wafts through the air… It’s almost as if the night was made to order, with the intent to please you.

 

Every so often a customer, who’s also an acquaintance, raises his glass to you from a table across the room. Like a good club host you acknowledge the greeting by raising your glass in return.

 

That is the extent of your civility tonight though. Normally, you’d get up and walk over, engage in some meaningless yet customary small talk with your clientele, always with an eye out for new business connections.

 

Your nightclubs are much more than mere places of entertainment after all.

 

To you they’re like office rooms, where many of the business transactions that have made you the wealthy and influential man you are today, began to be forged.

 

But not tonight.

 

Tonight you are just a man drinking to forget.

 

 A female laugh causes your eyes to shift momentarily to a couple sitting at the bar, engaged in an apparent intimate conversation.

 

The scene causes you to grin despite yourself.

 

Dracaena’s new manager is wooing the female clientele as usual, making use of all of his charm.

 

He’s a smooth talker that one, but you knew that when you hired him. He didn’t have to be one though. You have a feeling his looks alone would be enough to drag half the women in Tokyo to Dracaena every night.

 

Former male models always make the best club managers…

 

The woman laughs again; her poorly concealed lust pouring from her eyes like waterfalls as she stares at the delicate curves on the manager’s upturned lips.

 

You almost feel sorry for her.  Like all the others before her, she won’t be getting anything from him.

 

His interest in women is purely academic after all…but you also knew that when you hired him.

 

Of course you also knew he would quickly become infatuated with you, but oddly enough the fact doesn’t interfere with your professional relationship.

 

Unlike Sudou Shuu, the new manager knows his place. He knows you do not mix business with pleasure and that, as such, you’d never involve yourself with an employee. To him you’re an unachievable goal that he’s happy to place high up on a pedestal and worship from a safe distance.

 

He’s a good kid though, hardworking for a 28-year-old straight out of the limelight of fashion runways and magazine covers. He has a natural mind for business and for some time now you’ve been pondering on whether or not to initiate him in your ‘underworld’ activities. You suspect that charm of his will make him go far even amongst yakuzas and crime lords.

 

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar voice asks behind you.

 

You have to admit you blink a couple of times as you turn to face your speaker, thinking your mind is playing tricks on you.

 

Maybe you _are_ drunk by now.

 

Liu Fei Long, however, just stares back at you, one perfectly shaped eyebrow rising in an inquisitive arch.

 

“Is this a bad time?” He asks; one hand holding a martini glass, the other holding the back of the chair next to you.

 

Something about your facial expression apparently answers on your behalf, because the Chinese man soon ends up sitting beside you with no further ceremony.

 

You watch him take the glass to his lips, his eyes fixed on the jazz band playing live music on the stage in front of you.

 

You see as a ghost of a grin appears on his lips. “You are a man of many flaws Asami, but I have to admit you always did have impeccable taste.”

 

You don’t answer. Instead, you let him chatter on; your eyes narrowing towards Fei Long in a calculating manner.

 

You know he can tell you are assessing him, of course.

 

You don’t care. You prefer to be cautious. After all, when it comes to Liu Fei Long, you never know who of you is meant to play the role of hunter and who is meant to play the role of prey.

 

“Dracaena has a superb ambiance. I’m frankly jealous. I wish I could replicate this vibe in one of my club-“

 

“What are you doing here?” You cut him off so drily that the younger man turns to look at you surprised.

 

“Enjoying a drink and good music. What does it look like I’m doing?”

 

Something about the look you shoot him, must serve to clarify the intent behind your question.

 

“Oh, you mean in _Japan_?” Fei Long answers, straightening his back against the chair. “I’m here for the wedding. Shinomori is my associate too, remember?”

 

Of course. You should have thought about that the moment you saw him. It makes sense Minister Shinomori would invite such an important business partner as Fei Long to his daughter’s wedding.

 

After all, as one of his key associates, you yourself…

 

“I’m sure you’ve receive an invitation to attend the wedding ceremony too...” The Chinese man finishes the thought on your behalf, an imperceptible smile making a brief appearance on his lips as he shifts his gaze towards your half empty glass of bourbon.

 

“Although I presume you won’t be sober enough to actually attend it.”

 

“State your business and leave. Or did you just stop by Dracaena to harass me?”

 

The younger man doesn’t attempt to hide his smile any longer. “No…Although I somehow had a feeling that I’d find you here…You never did enjoy being alone when you feel upset.”

 

You choose to ignore his comment and calmly take another sip from your bourbon.

 

“I saw Akihito today.” Fei Long continues, his voice casual.

 

He knows the comment alone is enough to grab your full and undivided attention, no matter how perfect looking your mask of indifference is at the moment. 

 

“I saw him at the gallery downtown. I was hoping to see his photographs before they were taken out of display. It turns out I made it in the nick of time. They were about to take them down when I arrived.” Fei Long says, feigning uninterest as he stares down towards his martini glass. “He looks good, Akihito. I hadn’t seen him in person in over a year…I was going to make an offer on one of the photographs, but it turns out you beat me to it.” His gaze suddenly shifts back towards you. “Did you really buy all of Akihito’s photographs for yourself?”

 

He’s amused. You can tell he’s amused, and you cannot help your lips from morphing into a thin line.

 

“That was due to a misunderstanding on my associate’s part. I ordered him to buy the hotel and its contents. He mistakenly thought I was referring to the gallery’s contents too.”

 

“Oh? And here I was thinking it was a desperate move on your part to show your ex-lover you still cared for him.”

 

You open your mouth intent on refuting the comment but Fei Long beats you to it.

 

“He asked me about you, you know?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Akihito, of course. He told me you attended the photograph exhibition yesterday but that you left before the two of you had a chance to talk…Is this true?”

 

You force your facial expression to remain neutral. “I had prior engagements.” You explain. “I only stayed for the opening ceremony.”

 

Somehow you can tell Fei Long doesn’t look convinced by your words.

 

“Akihito asked me if I’d spoken to you recently. He asked me if everything was ok with you…”

 

Your tongue betrays you before you have a chance to stop it. “And you?” You ask.

 

“Oh, I told him you remain the same insufferable creature as ever. If anything, you just keep getting more insufferable as you age…Akihito laughed when I told him this. He didn’t look at all surprised by the news.”

 

You can’t take this banter any longer. “Is this conversation going anywhere, Fei Long?”

 

Again, the same cool smile appears on the Chinese man’s lips. “You know, you surprise me Asami. To think you’re actually handing Akihito on a plate to that girl…”

 

You’ve had enough. “Enjoy your drink, Fei Long.” You say, already half way up the chair.

 

“Akihito’s life may be in danger.”

 

The words reach your ears amidst the jazz music, your muscles tensing up immediately. You ignore the anxious stares from your employees, aware you’re in a foul mood, and slowly sit back down on the chair in front of Fei Long.

 

The Chinese man grins. “Do I have your attention now?”

 

“Explain yourself.”

 

“Oh come on, Asami. Do I really have to? Give Akihito a bit more credit. He’s marrying the daughter of a mob lord. How long do you think it took him to find out about Shinomori’s side businesses?” He laughs. “More importantly, how long do you think it took Shinomori to catch on the fact Akihito was spying on him?”

 

“How do know this?”

 

“I have my sources of information.”

 

“Is Akihito aware he’s in danger?”

 

“As far as I know, he doesn’t have a clue.”

 

“Tell me everything you know.”

* * *

 

An hour later your limo is cruising at full speed down Ginza prefecture. Your destination – the newest hotel complex acquired by Sion Corporation.

 

You glance at your wristwatch apprehensively; your conversation with Fei Long still playing on your mind.

 

_“Why did you choose to tell me all this?”_

_“Oh, excuse me. I just thought you’d like to know your former lover is about to get in some serious deep shit with his future father-in-law.”_

_“You know very well there is nothing between me and Akihito anymore. There hasn’t been anything between us for over two years. He’s no longer my concern.”_

_“You say that and yet you’re still in love with him…Why, you may snort all you want Asami, but you know it to be true.”_

_“And why, may I ask, do you think such is true?”_

_“Because even though t_ _he world might well be fooled by your perfect mask of composure Asami, when it comes to Takaba Akihito, you were always incredibly easy to read…”_

 

“We’re here, sir.” Kirishima’s voice reaches you from the limo’s speaker device.

 

When you take care to acknowledge your surroundings again, you find yourself below the neon lights of the Ritz-Carlton’s main entrance; a valet already holding the side door of the limo open and staring down at you in slight bewilderment.

 

For how long have you been daydreaming?

 

You exit the limo without a word, an only half acknowledge the reverent bows the valet and hotel concierge  give you as you walk past them.

 

They know who you are of course, and although Sion Corporation hasn’t yet officiated the hotel’s purchase, you have a feeling that the news have already leaked out that you are their new boss. No doubt in their minds they are thinking they might as well try to ingratiate themselves with you from the start.

 

You move smoothly and confidently through the lobby, not stopping to chitchat with any of the hotel officials who nonetheless seem surprised to see you here at this late hour.

 

You reach the gallery at the far back of the ground floor and for a split second your stomach churns, because the glass doors leading to it are closed and nothing but darkness is visible on the other side of them.

 

Are you too late?

 

Moving closer towards them though, you notice a faint light coming from a room at the end of the gallery and it’s with relief that the doors give way when you turn their handles and open them.

 

Your steps echo through the marble floors of the now empty gallery; the place a total contrast from its appearance the night before.

 

Soon you hear a loud thump, followed by someone cursing out loud, but the voice sounds alien to you.

 

When you reach the threshold of the lighted room's door and glance inside it your stomach churns again. A dark-haired young man is crouching down beside a broken photo frame, trying to somehow mend the fracture no doubt caused by his clumsy hands. You quickly scan the room, but find the unknown man to be its only occupant at the moment.

 

It doesn’t take long for the youth to notice your presence.  

 

“Ah, I’m afraid we’re closed, sir.” He says standing up; seemingly surprised to find a stranger framed by the darkness. “The gallery closed this afternoon to dismantle yesterday’s exhibition.” He glances around him, directing your attention to the multitude of packages shaped like photo frames that surround him.

 

When you look back at the youth, you notice that his eyes are narrowed and that he’s staring at you intently, as if he has the distinct feeling he’s seen you before.

 

You’re in no mood for introductions or explanations though. “My apologies then.” You say calmly. “I must have mistaken the exhibition’s closing time.”

 

You’re already on your way out when the youth speaks again. “Ah, are you here to speak with Takaba-san, sir? You are Morita-san, right? From Sion Corporation? I believe I saw you yesterday at the exhibition’s opening ceremony.”

 

You’re about to correct the misunderstanding but the young man doesn’t give you a chance. “Takaba-san has just stepped out for a moment. I’ll go fetch him for you, sir. I believe you still have some pending paperwork to sign regarding the photographs’ purchase.”

 

He’s walking past you in a hurry before you can explain to him that Morita-san is your associate, not you, and you soon find yourself alone in the closet-type room, surrounded by new and familiar photos, one or two of which you remember having once adorned Akihito’s bedroom walls at your previous penthouse.

 

You take a pack of cigarettes out from your suit’s pocket and are just about to light a Dunhill against your lips when a voice behind you halts your action. “You can’t smoke in here.”

 

Still, you flicker the lighter on. “No one’s watching.”

 

“No, seriously. You can’t. You’ll trigger the smoke alarms.” Akihito says, pointing towards the discreetly looking round objects scattered throughout the ceiling above your head.

 

“Hm… I see.” You retort with a frown, and place the unlit cigarette back in its pack and in your pocket.

 

“So,… _Morita-san_ …”

 

“I’m afraid the young man who was just here mistook me for my associate. He didn’t give me a chance to clarify my identity before he went out to fetch you.”

 

Akihito doesn’t reply. He doesn’t say anything in return. But then again, neither do you.

 

Even though your back is facing him at the moment, you can tell Akihito is following you with his eyes.

 

You feign interest in a particular photograph propped against the wall, still waiting to be packaged in cellophane and bubble wrap. A black and white photo of a child clad in rags, searching for food amongst what looks like a massive dumpster site.

 

“Where was this photo taken?” You ask, enthralled by its powerfulness.

 

“Why are you here?” Akihito answers instead. Oddly, he doesn’t sound mad or upset. More like curious, perhaps?

 

You smile to yourself. You’re not sure you know how to reply to his question. But that is not what you tell him. Instead you too answer with a question.  

 

“I should be asking that of you… Shouldn’t you be at your bachelor party or something?”

 

“I had it last week.”

 

Your eyes don’t leave the photograph, not even for a second. Deep down you’re afraid that looking back at Akihito will cause your resolve to crack and that you’ll end up marching up to him and taking him here and now… By force if you have to.

 

“Shouldn’t you be home resting then?” You say instead; your voice sounding calm and detached. You were always a master at hiding your emotions. “It’s quite late.”

 

“I wanted to make sure all of the photographs were well packaged. I won’t have time after the wedding to do it. We’re leaving directly for our honeymoon.”

 

Funny how an innocent, casual observation is enough to remind you of the deep hole separating the two of you.

 

“Are you here because of them?” You hear Akihito ask hesitantly.

 

You finally turn to face him. “Them?” You ask surprised, and the feeling is heightened even further when you notice Akihito’s arms are crossed in front of him.

 

Not in a contemptuous posture though. No. It almost looks as if he’s hugging his torso. Much in the way he used to when the two of you first met, and he was not so much frightened of you, as he was frightened of himself and of the feelings you stirred within him.

 

Akihito’s arms drop instantly. He seems to be conscious of your scrutinizing gaze. “The photographs.” He explains as his eyes dart briefly towards the dozen or so bubble wrapped volumes neatly stacked against each other on the floor next to you.

 

Ah, yes. The photographs. The ones your associate inadvertently ended up buying at yesterday’s auction on your behalf.

 

For a second your mind goes blank and you stare stupidly at the packages, unable to come up with anything to say. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk so much tonight after all…

 

“Why did you attend the exhibition yesterday?”

 

Another question you don’t factually know the answer to.

 

“I’ve… developed a recent interest in photography.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

You chuckle under your breath. “Maybe.” You admit. “Did seeing me upset you, Akihito?”

 

You are well aware that he’s avoiding your gaze when he answers you, and it takes every ounce of control in your body not to walk over to him, grab him by the back of his neck and slam your lips against his.

 

 “Why would it upset me?” He says with far less resolve than it appears he’d hope to.

 

A sudden bout of madness prompts your next question, no doubt.

 

“Do you love her?” You hear your lips asking before you can stop them from moving on their own accord.

 

He stares at you in shock. “Of course I love her! I’m getting married to her tomorrow, aren’t I?”

 

You ignore the pain the observation brings you and take a deep breath before what you know will destroy some of his happiness.

 

“Her father. Minister Shinomori…”

 

“Is an illegal weapon’s trafficker.” He cuts you off. “I know... We both know. But she has nothing to do with her father’s illegal businesses. She’s innocent.”

 

Why does he think you care about the girl's innocence? It’s not _her_ you’re concerned with.

 

You take several steps in Akihito’s direction, ignoring the disappointment of seeing him back away from you instinctively.

 

“Listen Akihito, I don’t know how much you’re aware of Shinomori’s illegal transactions, what investigations you did so far into his businesses, but he is on to you.” You’re aware that your voice has an urgent edge to it, you’re aware you’re probably scaring him, but you _know_ Shinomori, you _know_ how ruthless he can be when someone stands in his way, and you can’t phantom the thought of him laying a hand on Akihit-

 

“I know!” You hear him shout, his back pressed against a wall. “I know all that! That’s why we’re not coming back to Japan after the honeymoon!”

 

You feel as though you’ve just been slapped across the face.

 

“...What?” You hear yourself asking.

 

He’s avoiding your gaze again; his own darting towards the floor. “We…We’re moving to New York after the honeymoon. I took a job there with the NY Times. We’re getting as far away from her father as possible. We’re not planning to come back here anytime soon.”

 

Your brain’s trying hard to process the information. Something doesn’t add up.

 

“You know everything?... But he told me…”

 

“I asked Fei Long to tell you this. I told him everything this afternoon…He said he was going to see you tonight.” Akihito fidgets uncomfortably under your gaze. “When I saw you yesterday…I thought you had come to warn me about Shinomori-san. You don't need to. I know everything already.”

 

For the first time in a long while you find yourself confused. Fei Long knows everything? He knows Akihito's aware he's being targeted and already has an escape plan? Then why…?

 

Fei Long’s true motivations suddenly hit you full on. You feel sick.

 

Fei Long wanted you to come here. He wanted you to talk to Akihito face-to-face.

 

He wanted you to taste bitter defeat, to experience loss one more time.

 

He wanted to break your heart,… just like you broke his so many years ago.

 

You close your eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling an urge to laugh at yourself. It turns out tonight you were the prey…How could you be so naïve?

 

Akihito’s voice interrupts your dark musings. “Listen…if you’re not here for the photographs…I think you should leave now.”

 

You know he can tell you’re upset, that something is wrong with you, but as you open your eyes to look back at him you have a feeling that all is not well with him either.

 

One thing is certain, you don’t seem inclined to leave and when he comes to grips with the notion, Akihito silently turns his back on you and starts moving towards the door.

 

He doesn’t go far though, for you grab hold of his wrist tightly, forcing him to turn round and face you again.

 

“Do you love her-“

 

Akihito’s angry now. “I already told you. I do!” But he doesn’t understand that wasn’t your question.

 

“-more than you loved me?”  You finish it, and watch as Akihito’s eyes once again widen in shock.

 

“You have no right...”

 

You grip his wrist more fiercely. “Answer me.” You demand, but Akihito manages to shake himself free from your grasp.

 

The look of hurt in his face agonizingly reminds you of the one he bore the last time the two of you were together, when you managed to ruthlessly shatter his heart. You wonder if he can tell that your own heart is shattered too?

 

You watch silently as Akihito backs away from you. “You have _no_ right to ask me that.” He says, before he turns round and runs out of the room.

 

You’re left alone, hearing his footsteps echoing outside on the empty gallery, moving away from you, moving away from your reach.

 

You let your forehead rest against the wall space that Akihito just occupied, letting its coolness soothe the feverishness racking through your body at the moment.   

 

You have a feeling you’re going mad…

 

(to be continued)


	3. PART III

The sound of the incoming call seems to be amplified tenfold, waking you instantly.

You suppress the urge to grunt as your hand shoots out from under the covers towards the top of the bedside table, where your cellphone continues its infernal racket.

The muscles in your arm feel sore, and you have to blink more than a couple of times to avoid being blinded on the spot by the sunlight being filtered through your bedroom curtains. _Whatever_....Your brain is a foggy mess anyway. It’s not like processing visuals is up on its priority list at the moment.

No one really needs to tell you that you have a hangover… and a pretty bad one at that. You’ve had enough of them in your lifetime to recognize the symptoms.

In retrospect, you’re now thinking it was probably a mistake to chug down an entire bottle of Scotch the moment you arrived home yesterday. Then again, it’s not like you were thinking straight at the time.

Memories of your fleeting encounter with Akihito yesterday try to surface from the depths of your blurry mind, but you are quick to bury the thoughts again. You’re a master at self-defense after all.

“Yes?” You groan towards the cellphone’s speaker, aware your voice sounds like sand paper against wood.

“Asami-sama…?” Kirishima asks hesitantly from the other side of the line.

Your voice must really sound terrible…

You sit up in bed, slowly and awkwardly, because the room has annoyingly decided to start spinning round and round your bed. What was it that you used to take to cure hangovers?... It’s been so long since your last one, you’ve forgotten.

In fact, the last time you recall making the concoction, you gave it to Akihito, who showed up at the penthouse one night heavily drunk and who spent the following couple of days travelling from your bed to the master bathroom in order to empty the contents of his stomach. Akihito always did have a pathetic low tolerance when it came to alcohol! Like that other time on New Year’s Day, when he-

You curse mentally. Damn, there goes your mind again!... Thinking of Akihito seems to be all it’s wired to do lately.

“Did…Did I wake you up, sir?” You hear your assistant ask.

“No. Of course not.” A convincing lie, were it not for your raspy voice. “What time is it?” You ask changing the subject while looking around for the alarm clock you suddenly remember you don’t own. You never really had any use for alarm clocks after all.

“…It’s close to 1 pm, sir…I was just calling to remind you that I’m scheduled to pick you up at 2 pm in order to accompany you to the airport. Your flight for Macau leaves at 3.”

You don’t register half of what your assistant says, as all sounds seem to fade into oblivion. 1 pm? You feel instantly nauseous, as you recall that the wedding ceremony was scheduled for that morning at 10 am.

It must be over by now…Who are you kidding? It’s _surely_ over by now, and you’ve managed to sleep right through it.

Well…that’s it then.

It’s over… Takaba Akihito is no longer yours.

You don’t want to admit it, but you’re starting to feel as if someone has carved a hole in your chest, where your heart was supposed to be.

You feel a lump in your throat, but where most humans would appropriately respond to what you’re feeling at the moment by crying or sobbing, you chuckle instead… Barely, but it’s definitely a chuckle what escapes your lips.

“Asami-sama?...”

You’re no fool of course. You know Kirishima knows you well enough not to be tricked by your theatrics or your brave front. He knows you’re in pain at the moment, but still you play your role well.

You let yourself fall back on the pillows and take a deep breath before you answer him. “I’ll be down at the entrance hall at 2. Don’t be late.”

“Y-Yes sir.”

You smile. You’ve at least managed to surprise your assistant with your confident tone. Such a contrast it must sound now when compared to the last few days.

“Asami-sama?...”

“Yes?”

“If I may offer a suggestion sir, perhaps you’d like to take advantage of your business trip to Macau to take a few days off from work. I’m sure the meetings with Fei Long-sama won’t occupy you for more than a day. I could rearrange your schedule so that you stay in Macau for an extra few days to wind down and relax. I hear the city is quite lovely this time of the year.”

Your immediate thought is to dismiss the suggestion. You’re the bloody CEO of Sion Corporation. You don’t take _days off from work_. Although on second thought…

Kirishima is quick to take advantage of your hesitation. “I’ll book your usual suite at the Mandarin Oriental for an extended period of time, just in case.”

Again, the rational part of your brain is refuting the idea, but for once that part of you doesn’t win you over.

“Thank you, Kirishima.” You hear yourself saying as the call ends.

You linger in bed just long enough to gather sufficient strength to drag your sore body to the master bathroom. You really hope that the muscle pain you’re feeling is just a side effect of yesterday’s heavy drinking and not a sign that age is finally catching up with you.

You let the warm water from the shower head slide down your muscles, hoping it will wash away the bitter memories from the last few weeks as well. You secretly wonder how long it will take for you to feel again like the Asami Ryuichi you once knew.

Maybe being away from Japan for a few days will help you clear your thoughts. After all, when was the last time you had a proper vacation? Oh yeah, that’s right, it was over two years ago when you surprised Akihito with a trip to a resort in Thailand-

You shake your head furiously. “ _Damn it! Not again._ ”

What is wrong with your brain today?

You turn the water off, and dripping wet step onto the floor tiles outside the shower.

You wrap a towel around your waist, and use another to dry out your hair as you cross the length of the bathroom towards your closet room.

The bright lights inside the walk-in-closet make you groan. It’s going to take a few hours for the effects of the hangover to fully pass through your system.

At a corner of the room you notice the travel suitcase that Kirishima packed on your behalf yesterday. You have a strong suspicion that you’re going to find a pack of casual clothes underneath your business suits once you open it at the hotel. It’s pretty obvious to you that your assistant’s ‘suggestion’ regarding the wind down time was all but a spur of the moment thing. Most likely the suite at the Mandarin Oriental has been booked in advance for days.

You’ll let it slide this time though. It’s true that you don’t like to be fooled by your employees one bit, but you know that Kirishima means well.

Halfway into the process of choosing what you’re going to wear today, your eyes fall upon a box placed on the shelf above your business shirt’s rack.

You know what’s inside the box of course. After all you put it in there, even though it’s been over a year since you looked inside it.

You stare in silence at the object, and somewhat surprised find your hands reaching out towards it a moment later.

Box and lid soon drop to the carpeted floor with a soft thud. In your hands you hold an inexpensive red and white jacket, the word ‘JAPAN’, fairly faded from all the washings, written across its back.

You wonder for the millionth time why is it that you hanged on to that jacket, and for the millionth time a voice inside your head answers you. “ _Because it was Akihito’s favorite. Because you thought that if you hanged on to it he’d eventually come back to get it. And then the two of you could talk things over,… or perhaps even argue some more. Maybe you could find a way to keep him with you. By force if you had to! Because after all you are Asami Ryuichi, and resorting to force and coercion is the way you always fix most of your problems…But he never came back, did he_?” The voice inside your head asks you.

“No.” You answer out loud, your hands clutching the sides of the jacket fiercely.

Maybe you should just ask Kirishima to mail the jacket to him…But no. Deep down you know Akihito wouldn’t take it back. There are too many memories linked to it; too many memories involving the two of you. He was even wearing the damn jacket the night the two of you first met!

It’s best to just dispose of it.

Yet the mere thought of doing it makes you sick, and you find yourself picking up the box and lid from the floor and placing the jacket back inside it. Some other day, perhaps. You don’t have time to dispose of it now.

Just before you close the lid, a familiar scent reaches your nose and you freeze.

“Impossible.” You think. And to prove your point you bring the box closer to your face and breath in deeply.

You don’t smell anything of course. Your mind was just playing tricks on you as usual. There’s not a trace of Akihito’s scent left in the jacket. If anything, the jacket smells the same way any piece of clothing tucked away for too long smells, and yet… if you close your eyes, for a second or so you swear you can almost smell the cheap shampoo and shower gel he liked to use, the ones which you teased him about relentlessly because you knew they were marketed for young kids, not grown men.

Shit! You still remember his smell.

How long will it take to forget Akihito for good, you wonder.

 

* * *

 

The limo cruises leisurely through downtown Tokyo, while Kirishima, sitting in front of you, fills you in on your business agenda for the next 24 hours.

“Your flight is scheduled to land at Macau’s International Airport at 7 pm, local time.” He lets you know. “I’ve arranged with the hotel for a driver to pick you up at the arrivals’ gate and to take you directly to the restaurant where the meeting with the representative from ALB Corporation will take place. The first meeting with Fei Long-sama has been postponed to tomorrow morning since he’ll only be able to leave Japan tonight due to the fact he’s attending Ak- ” Kirishima stops himself in the nick of time; his eyes widening in disbelief at his inadvertent slip of the tongue.

“… _he’s attending Akihito’s wedding_.” You finish the sentence mentally, but your cool and collected composure does not let on that you understood what it was that your assistant didn’t voice out loud.

You watch as Kirishima coughs to clear his throat, clearly embarrassed by the accidental slip, and make an effort not to chuckle. The man is so preoccupied with your present wellbeing it is actually amusing.

“I’m sorry, sir. I seem to be coming down with a cold.” He says, coughing some more.

You wonder if he can tell that you know he’s lying.

“As I was saying, Asami-sama.” Kirishima resumes a moment later. “The business meeting with Fei Long-sama will now be held tomorrow morning at 11 am at the hotel’s main conference room. It is expected that the meeting will last well into the afternoon, so I’ve taken the liberty to arrange for lunch to be served directly in the conference room at 1 pm. I’ve already forwarded the menu along with the meeting’s agenda to Fei Long-sama’s assistant. I’ve also forwarded him the drafts for the lease of the new casino, in case Fei Long-sama brings the subject up at the meeting.”

The ghost of a grin appears on your lips. “One step ahead of the game, as always.”

A faint blush creeps up Kirishima’s cheeks. He always feels awkward receiving compliments on his work.

“Well sir, preparing everything in advance was the least I could do,… considering I won’t be accompanying you on this trip.”

You detect a note of resentment in his voice and sigh tiredly. You two have had this conversation before.

“Don’t start with that again, Kirishima. You deserve your vacation.”

“But, sir! What if-“

“I’ll be perfectly fine on my own for a week. Besides, I can’t afford to have you collapsing on the job due to burnout syndrome. It’s been ages since you’ve had some proper holidays.”

The look that your assistant gives you then screams “ _Look who’s talking_!”, but Kirishima is wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Incidentally sir,” He says instead. “your usual suite at the Mandarin Oriental was already booked until the end of the month, so I ended up booking you the presidential suite.” He lets you know, while sporting, what looks to you like an evil grin.

“…Did you?” You retort; an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, sir…” His grin grows wider. “…I ended up booking it for the entire week.”

Before you can stop yourself, a laugh escapes your lips.

It’s only now that you truly realize how much you were in need of a good one today. Once again, Kirishima Key comes to your rescue.

“Seriously, sir” You hear your assistant say when your laughter dies down. “You should take this opportunity to relax and recharge your batteries. Perhaps get to know Macau better and... who knows, meet some new people while you’re there…”

“… _Meet some new people_ , huh?” You chuckle amused. “Interesting suggestion coming from someone who just 6 months ago was concerned I slept around with strangers too often.”

“Sir! I never said-“

“No. You never _said_ it out loud. But you _thought_ it...many times. Am I wrong?”

Kirishima coughs again. “Well sir,…if I may be totally frank…There was indeed a time when I thought things were getting a bit out of hand,… although I assumed it was because you were still upset about your breakup with A-“

Not again! Kirishima’s face turns crimson, and looking at him you suddenly recall something.

“By the way, Kirishima, I just remembered I’d like to ask you for a favor before you go on holidays.”

“Of course, sir.” He readily says, relieved you changed the subject.

“There’s a brown box in my closet, above the shirt’s rack. I’d like you to dispose of it while I’m away.”

Kirishima seems dumbfounded by the request. “What do you mean exactly by _dispose of it_ , sir?”

You frown. “Get rid of it. Throw it out. Destroy it. What do you think I mean?”

The same dumbfounded look still clouds Kirishima’s facial expression. “Are we talking about a large brown box, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Located on a shelf?”

“Yes.”

“Just above your business shirt’s rack?”

“Yes, Kirishima. There is only one brown box in the closet at the moment. I’m sure you’ll be able to spot it easily.”

Your assistant stares at you intently, seemingly studying your features. “Are you _really_ sure you wish me to dispose of that particular box sir?”

Well, if any doubt existed that Kirishima knew what was inside the box, it was pretty much put to rest now.

You return his stare rigidly. “Yes, Kirishima, I’m sure.”

“But sir! Didn’t the jacket that’s inside the box belong to Akihit-“

Busted!

“I’m terribly sorry, sir! I…I did not mean to upset you.”

You chuckle at his display of distress. “I’m not upset, Kirishima. And you can say his name out loud, you know? It’s not like I’ll go into shock if I hear it.”

“My apologies, sir.” Your assistant says nevertheless.

“…I know very well who the jacket belongs to, Kirishima.” You say a moment later; your voice calm even though you feel all but that on the inside. “…There’s just no point in me keeping it anymore after today.”

The sound of a cellphone ringing puts a premature end to the conversation.

You let Kirishima pick up the call while you distract yourself by lighting a Dunhill against your lips; your first in many months.

It doesn’t take long for your mind to consume itself again with thoughts regarding Akihito. You wonder what he’d tell you if he saw you smoking. Akihito made such an effort in the past to make you quit the habit after all.

And you did,… for a while, although you know you did it more to please him, then because you were really ready to give up on your Dunhills. A first for you in many ways. After all, until that moment you had never changed anything about yourself or your habits because another person asked you to. You smirk at the memory. Being in love sure makes one do strange things.

You’ve just exhaled a cloud of smoke out the window when you hear Kirishima’s surprised voice.

“But that’s not possible! Are you sure?” Your assistant says on the cellphone.

“What’s wrong, Kirishima?” You ask.

The other man’s eyes shift towards you, his hand coming up to cover the cellphone’s speaker. “It’s Nakamura-san, sir; the concierge from your old penthouse building. It seems someone got into your old apartment this morning.”

“Someone broke into it? Why is he calling you then? Tell him to call the police.”

Kirishima shakes his head. “No sir. It seems the person in question, a young man, had the key to the penthouse with him.”

“That’s impossible, Kirishima. The only people who still have a key to that place are you, me, and…”

You have a feeling your heart is about to stop beating. “ _It can’t be_.” You tell yourself.

“Has the person left the penthouse already?” You hear yourself ask, surprised your voice sounds so steady.

An agonizing moment ensues in which Kirishima repeats the question against the cellphone’s speaker.

You know the answer to it even before your assistant voices it out loud; his surprised look more than enough to give it away.

“No sir. Nakamura-san says the young man is still inside the penthouse. He wanted to confirm whether you were aware of the unexpected visit. He wasn't informed of it beforehand, that's why he called to check if the visitor is authorized."

“Suoh, turn the limo around and head to my old building in Ginza.” You shout towards the front of the vehicle, being driven by your trusty bodyguard. “Tell Nakamura-san I’ll be right there.” You then tell Kirishima, who looks at you wide-eyed.

“But, sir, your flight!”

“I own the jet plane that’s flying me to Macau, Kirishima. It won’t leave without me. Besides, if I’m ten minutes late to the airport it won’t make much of a difference anyway.”

As you feel the limo preparing to do a U-turn, you suddenly get a reality check. What exactly are you expecting to find by going to your old penthouse apartment? Or rather, _who_? Whoever’s there at the moment isn’t Akihito for sure.

Yet, if you could only be allowed to see him one last time.

For a moment you catch your reflection on the window of a passing street shop; you know it is hope you see reflected back at you.

"Just one last time.", you tell yourself.

If only to say goodbye...

 

(To be continued...)

 


	4. PART IV

It's been half-a-year since you've last set foot inside your old penthouse.

The scarce furnishings you've left behind are now covered in an array of cream colored bedsheets, but somehow the place still feels oddly homely to you.

You figure that's because these walls hold many memories from your past life; memories of happier years you now find yourself wondering at times if you really lived through.

There's something off with the place though. _That_ you can sense as soon as you step onto the genkan. An unexpected presence permeates the space; one which was not here six months ago when you finally decided to leave, burying the spectrum of your old life amongst unwanted designer furniture and expensive artwork.

You are quick to notice the Nike trainers carelessly tossed in front of your feet, and your heart, that otherwise perfectly unfazed machine of yours, suddenly decides to short-circuit and start hammering against the walls of your ribcage as if you're about to have a heart attack.

Not troubling yourself to take off your own shoes, you start walking down the hallway, hearing only the echo your footsteps produce against the bare walls.

You discover that the living room curtains have been pulled aside, allowing the afternoon sun to bathe the space in its inviting light, but you stop just long enough at the doorway in order to confirm the room is empty, choosing instead to move along towards the bedroom area.

Sure enough, you soon spot another glimmer of light coming from the end of the hallway, just on the other side of the door that leads to the only guest bedroom in the penthouse, and which can now be found half-opened, even though you are certain that it had been closed shut long before you decided to move to your current home.

After all, you made it a point of keeping that door shut at all times while still living under this roof. For that bedroom carries the largest amount of memories of all.

You now approach it cautiously, aware you're breathing faster than normal, courtesy of the frantic movements inside your chest. For a split second you wonder if this is how an anxiety attack feels like, only to suppress a laugh at the thought. You, Asami Ryuichi, succumbing to an anxiety attack? At the age of 42? Preposterous!

And yet your hand is close to shaking when you grab hold of the doorknob, knowing that in fact your body is in sudden overdrive because you are hoping against hope that you are not daydreaming at the moment, and that the one you will find on the other side of the door is the only person who has ever meant the world to you.

You take a deep breath, nevertheless prepared for the worse, and somehow manage to summon whatever powers needed to once again conceal your emotions behind a mask of perfect composure, lest your hope is shattered in the next few seconds and you are forced to stare defeat in the face.

You push the door forward, but the bright sunlight coming from the open window in front of it nearly blinds you on the spot.

It's when you raise a hand to shield your eyes from it that you notice the figure laying on the bed to your right.

You recognize it immediately. How could you not? And the sudden wave of relief that washes over your body is so intense that it nearly causes you to lose your balance; your shoulder nevertheless hitting the doorframe for support.

Akihito is sleeping on his side, curled up in a fetal position, his arms hugging his legs; a duffle bag under his head assuming the role of improvised pillow.

He's clad in a simple grey t-shirt and a pair of stone wash jeans, clothes not at all suitable for a wedding,… or for the chilly wind currently blowing through the open window, for that matter.

Unsurprisingly, a particularly icy draught makes him shiver in his sleep. Or perhaps he shivers because even through his subconscious state he can somehow sense you're now standing right next to the bed, staring down at him as if afraid he is nothing more than a wraith that will disappear into thin air as soon as you look away.

If later asked, you won't be able to tell how long you stood there, just content with watching Akihito sleep. Several minutes pass for sure. In truth, you are moved to action only when you notice him shiver again, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden drop of temperature inside the room.

A couple of quick strides and you are at the window, shutting it. A few more to the left and you're opening the doors to Akihito's old closet, rummaging through its forgotten contents until you find a blanket which you then take back toward the bed and use to cover Akihito with, being awarded with a peaceful sigh from the latter's lips in return.

As you tuck the blanket along his sides, albeit careful not to wake up the youth, you bend down a little further and a familiar scent reaches your nose. You breathe it in deeply, and an amused smile ends up framing your lips. It seems that Akihito still uses that cheap kid's shampoo he was so fond of in the past. Something's never do change...

You eventually move back towards the hallway, but not without glancing at the bed and its current occupant for one last time before shutting the door behind you with a soft click.

Once outside, you grab your iPhone from the inner pocket of your designer's overcoat and run through its contacts list until your assistant's number shows up.

"Yes, Asami-sama?" Kirishima says as soon as he picks up the call. "I'm in the penthouse's lobby with Suoh and Nakamura-san. Were you able to identify the intruder?" You can sense the eager anticipation in the man's voice, and secretly wonder if he too suspected from the start who the intruder was.

"Yes, I have... It's Akihito, Kirishima. I found him sleeping in his old bedroom. You can tell Nakamura-san that everything is alright. No need to be alarmed."

Your assistant remains silent, probably already anticipating your next remark.

"As for the trip to Macau, Kirishima...arrange for it to be postponed for the time being."

"Yes, of course sir." Your assistant readily complies. There are unspoken questions in his subsequent silence. That much you can tell. But Kirishima appears to be wise enough to keep them to himself. "Will you still need the limo today, sir?" He asks instead.

"No. You can tell Suoh to drive it back to my apartment." You glance back at Akihito's bedroom door before adding: "I'll be staying here for the time being. If needed, I’ll call Suoh directly."

"Very well, Asami-sama. If that is all..."

"Yes, indeed. I hope you have a nice vacation Kirishima."

"Thank you, Asami-sama." He replies. "And,... sir?"

"Yes?"

"...Good luck, sir." He adds; his tone for once devoid of its usual clinical professionalism. "I truly hope all turns out well for you. You deserve it... You both do."

The call ends and you lean your back against the wall, closing your eyes for a few moments.

Yes,... you hope so too. 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon you find yourself frowning as you survey the mess you've made on the kitchen counters in front of you.

There is no denying that the smell coming from the hob is wonderful and that it brings with it the promise of a delicious meal, but looking at the current state of the counters, you suppose one could be forgiven if one were to assume that a mild sized tornado had somehow passed through the room.

You suspect that the majority of your acquaintances would no doubt be surprised to learn that you can actually cook. Not only that, that you're a good cook,… albeit a pretty messy one too.

You stir the vegetable stew brewing on the hob one more time and re-check the timer on the rice cooker, before finally turning towards the counters to start sorting out the leftover groceries you used to prepare dinner with.

The ghost of a grin appears on your lips as you recall the building concierge's stunned face when, an hour ago, he personally delivered the groceries you ordered over the phone earlier on.

First an unknown intruder, then a surprising visit from the penthouse's elusive owner, followed by a last minute grocery shopping request. You can only imagine the theories fermenting in the concierge's mind at the moment.

You're in the process of washing up a few kitchen utensils, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, hands submerged in soapy water, when you hear the faint sound of footsteps on the wooden floorboards just outside the kitchen area.

You force yourself not to look up from the task at hand though, even when you sense that Akihito has stopped short of the kitchen’s doorway; even when you hear a small surprised gasp escaping the young man's lips.

One badly interpreted look, one misplaced word from you, and you suspect that your former lover will flee the scene immediately; and so you take your time, weighing in your actions carefully, so as to not scare him off.

For a few seconds it seems as though the world has frozen around the both of you. Still, you wonder if Akihito's heart is beating as fast as yours right now. You can even hear your own heartbeats drumming inside your ears; so much so, that for a second you fear that the photographer might hear them to.

"You must be hungry." You finally say; your voice calm and casual. (How infinitely proud you are right now of your ability to mask your emotions!) "I'm making a vegetable stew and some rice. It will be ready soon." You add, eyes still focused on the kitchen basin.

Every second without hearing the sound of his voice is pure agony to you though.

"H-How did you know I was here...?" You eventually hear Akihito's unsteady voice ask, and then after a moment of evident silent reflection: "That guy in the lobby called you, didn't he?... Is he new? What happened to the old concierge, Matsuoka-san?"

"I believe Matsuoka-san retired a couple of months ago." You disclose, rinsing off the last wooden spoon, and placing it on the drainer beside the basin. "The new concierge, Nakamura-san, didn't recognize you. That's why he called me." You look at Akihito when you say this, only to see him take a step back startled, as soon as your eyes meet for the first time.

He somehow resembles a scared, wounded animal for a second, and it takes all the resolve in you not to shorten the distance that separates the both of you and take him in your arms. Yet you have a keen feeling that would only make things worse, and so you keep your distance, even though it's slowly killing you inside.

"I...I shouldn't have come here." The young man suddenly stutters. "I don't know what came over me. Sorry. I-I'll leave."

He's already turning round, apparently intent on going back down the hallway to fetch his duffel bag, when your voice stops him. "Stay. You did well in coming here... You're safe here." You say, and for once the urgency in your tone is enough to crack the polished veneer of your carefully concealed emotions.

Akihito's cheeks are tinted red when he turns back towards you, and it's more than obvious he doesn't know how to act or where to look by the way he fidgets and keeps changing the direction of his gaze. Truth be told though, you too are at a loss here.

For despite all your savviness and knowledge of the world and human nature, you are forced to admit that life has definitely not equipped you with the emotional baggage that allows you to know how to properly act in this situation.

Thankfully, you’re both saved from the awkward moment by the rice cooker, which suddenly comes to the rescue by filling the kitchen with its screeching alarm, signaling the end of the ongoing cooking program.

You move towards the machine intent on shutting off the noisy alarm and from the corner of your eye you see Akihito's hand coming up and grabbing the fabric of his T-shirt over his stomach. How long has it been since his last meal?, you wonder.

"I'll take the food to the living room." You say, snapping Akihito out of his musings with a start. "You can eat there."

You move over towards the hob and stir the steaming vegetable pot. "It will take a few more minutes for the stew to be ready." You also observe. "You can take a shower in the meantime, if you'd like. I turned on the bathroom’s heater while you were sleeping."

Judging by the way he's staring at you at the moment, you fear Akihito is going to refuse the whole thing and leave. Five years in a relationship with him have at least taught you to read most of his facial expressions, but as you prepare to talk him out of the decision, he unexpectedly nods in reply to the offer. "T-Thanks." He says sheepishly.

For a second or so you have a feeling he's going to add something else, taking into account the subtle way his lips suddenly tremble, but instead he ends up walking back towards the hallway and disappearing from view without uttering another word to you.

Alone once again, you lean your hands against the kitchen counter and let out a silent sigh of relief.

(to be continued...)


	5. PART V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! :) I'm taking fanfic3112's advice and posting the different scenes of the last chapter as individual parts, as I finish editing them. That way you won't have to wait so much for uploads on this story. If, however, you don't enjoy cliffhangers I suggest you don't read any further and wait until all the scenes are uploaded (there are 3-4 more scenes left in the story, depending on how the editing will go). Happy readings if you do decide to read on. Hope you enjoy this scene! ;)

A cloud of cigarette smoke escapes your lips whilst your eyes slowly roam the city’s skyline on the other side of the living room’s window.

 

Behind you, the dining table is set for one; the meal you’ve so carefully prepared now steaming under a covered china bowl.

 

As you hear the sound of the showerhead being turned off in the adjacent bathroom, you find yourself wondering for the thousandth time what the hell it is that you are doing at the moment.

 

You feel as though you’re stuck in some sort of alternative reality. The day so far is all off. You should be in Macau on a business trip. Akihito should be a married man on his way to a relaxing honeymoon and a bright future away from you. All ties binding you to each other should have been permanently severed by now. And yet you would be lying if you were to say out loud that you are not infinitely grateful that the Universe has somehow managed to screw up spectacularly in its original plans for today.

 

You still don’t know all of the details, of course. Even after browsing the internet on your iPhone, searching for the day’s news, you still have more questions than answers at this point, but one thing you were reassuringly able to gather from the tidbits of information circulating at present on the web. No wedding took place in the Shinomori household today.

 

“I thought you had quit smoking.” 

 

Akihito’s voice reaches you from behind, just as you finish blowing out another cloud of white smoke into the air.

 

You smile softly at his reflection in the window.

 

“Can you believe this is my first cigarette in two years?”

 

“No.”

 

His straightforward reply makes you chuckle under your breath.

 

“You would have smoked at the gallery yesterday if I had not stopped you, remember?” Akihito points out.

 

“Old habits die hard, I suppose.” You interject amused, turning round to face him.

 

The moment your eyes meet though, you feel an unexpected jolt run up your spine.

 

The younger man’s leaning against the living room’s doorframe; damp hair clinging to the sides of his face. He’s sporting the exact same jeans as before, but has ditched the grey t-shirt he was wearing for a white tank top, much like the ones he used to wear around the house when you lived under the same roof.

 

The tank top does nothing to conceal the well-toned muscles in his arms, which makes you wonder if he still lifts weights every day; a habit he first picked-up 6 years ago when training in self-defense arts with the monk Michihiro up on the Kyoto mountains.

 

You obviously never told him, not verbally at least, but you always found Akihito to be incredibly handsome (in a boyish sort of way), and even though he still retains to this day some of that fresh, youthful appearance you first fell in love with, you are aware it is no longer a naïve, brash boy who stands in front you now, but an alluring man, oozing self-confidence.

 

Something about your expression must have betrayed the scrutiny you are silently placing the photographer under, because the latter suddenly averts his eyes from you, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a somewhat defensive stance.

 

Noticing you’ve accidentally made the atmosphere grow uncomfortable makes you quickly snap out of your musings. “You should eat before the food gets cold.” You say, hopefully coolly, while nodding towards the dining table.

 

Happy for the distraction, Akihito moves in the appointed direction, but soon halts with a hand on the back of the chair as he notices only one bowl has been placed on the table. “Aren’t you going to eat too?” He asks in apparent confusion.

 

You shake your head in reply. “Not hungry.” And then while surveying the table setting. “I’ll fetch you some sake to accompany the stew.”

 

“Ah, no. That’s ok. Please don’t bother with it.” Akihito quickly interjects, and you are surprised to find him blushing. “I’m kind of nursing a hangover.” The younger man adds, clearly embarrassed. “No alcohol for me, please.”

 

You suppress the urge to smile at the admission. “ _You too, huh_?”, you think to yourself. “Water it is then.” You say out loud instead, while walking towards the kitchen, hoping your amusement was not perceivable in your voice.

 

A few minutes later you come back carrying a tray with three drinking glasses one it. One is clearly filled with water, but the other two, smaller shot-like glasses, sport a liquid with a highly unusual color.

 

You place the tray on the table next to Akihito and sit down across from him. The moment the other man notices the weird-looking concoctions though, he cringes.

 

“ _That_ old thing?” He says with a grimace.

 

“Hey, you don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.” You reply, picking up one of the shot glasses and chugging it down in one go.

 

“Still the best remedy to cure hangovers though.”  You add, albeit suppressing a wince at the bitter aftertaste the drink leaves in your mouth.

 

Akihito arches an eyebrow then. “How come _you’re_ drinking it?”

 

“…I’m sort of nursing a hangover of my own at the moment.” You confess, which makes the photographer tilt his head ever so slightly at you.

 

“Really?!” Akihito asks, and the intense way he’s staring at you spikes your curiosity.

 

“What?”

 

He shrugs in reply though. “Nothing. It’s just that you did sound a bit tipsy yesterday evening in the gallery, that’s all.”

 

“Did I?”

 

Memories of the previous night suddenly come to your mind, and you have a feeling the same is happening in Akihito’s, but before any of last night’s bitter recollections can settle between the two of you, the photographer grabs hold of the remaining shot glass and drinks it all up in one go.

 

“Bahh…What is even in this thing?!”

 

“It’s best if you don’t know.” You answer, unable to hide an amused grin at the disgusted expression on his face. “Eat more stew. It will help to cleanse the bitter aftertaste.”

 

You don’t have to suggest it twice. Akihito takes a spoonful of food into his mouth and chews it with gusto.

 

“De stew’s breddy goode, by de way.” He says with his mouth still full.

 

The tone in which he voices the observation makes you arch an eyebrow at him though. “I find your surprise offensive, Akihito.”

 

The young man swallows first before speaking up this time around.  “Well, I didn’t know you were a good cook, that’s all.” He shrugs again. “You never really went anywhere near the kitchen when we lived together.”

 

“I might be a good cook, but you are a better one. Besides, I always preferred your cooking.”

 

For some reason, the last sentence seems to make the photographer feel oddly self-conscious, and as a result the faintest shade of red appears in his upper cheeks. Unlike you, Akihito wears his emotions on his sleeve.

 

Unaware of what to do to ease his sudden embarrassment, you try to change the subject.

 

“Do you want me to turn on the TV?”

 

“No, thanks.” He smiles bitterly at the offer. “I probably made it to the 8 o’clock news.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” You agree, lighting a new Dunhill against your lips.

 

You notice how Akihito bites his lower lip for a moment, before looking up at you again. “…Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” He says suddenly; his voice so low though that you can barely understand the words.

 

“…Do you want me to?” You ask back.

 

But he shakes his head in return.

 

Truth be told, you’re having a hard time coping with the overbearing uncertainty clinging to your chest at the moment, and are about to pose the question regardless when he suddenly says (eyes fixed on the now half-empty china bowl):

 

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Again, the same low, almost imperceptible voice.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“Do… Do you mind if I stay here for a few days?”

 

“Stay for as long as you want.”

 

You have a feeling Akihito lets out a small sigh of relief at your words, and that he uses the opportunity to scan the room with his eyes to hide the tiniest of smiles from you; an action which leaves you frowning. Did he, by any chance, expect even for a second that your answer would be any different?

 

“When did you move out?” He suddenly asks, eyeing the bedsheets that cover the sofas and mantelpiece.

 

“About six months ago.” You reply, leaning your back against the chair and taking a long drag from your cigarette.

 

“Why?”

 

“ _Because this place reminded me too much of you._ ” But that’s not what you say out loud, of course. “I found a better place.” You tell him instead.

 

Now it’s Akihito’s turn to arch an eyebrow at you. “Better than this one?!” He asks incredulously.

 

“It’s not as big, but it’s closer to the office and has better security.”

 

Flashes from the time when the penthouse was attacked by Aaron and his men briefly flash through your mind. In truth, you had been planning to move to a safer location long before your break-up with Akihito.

 

“How come you didn’t sell this place?”

 

For a second you toy with the idea of telling him the truth; that is, telling him straight out that you hanged onto this apartment because you knew he still had a key to it, and because you always entertained the hope that he would come back to it someday.  Just like he did today.

 

“Asami?!...”

 

Its only when Akihito calls out to you a second time that you realize you’ve been staring blankly at the wall behind him, lost in thought.

 

“This penthouse is a good realty investment. That’s why I’m keeping it for the time being.” You reply coolly, masking your previous mental escapade with perfect ease.

 

You’re not exactly telling him a lie either. A penthouse in the most exclusive part of Ginza district is every realtor’s dream. You’re just not telling him the _real_ reason why you hanged onto it.  “Are you done eating?” You ask when you notice him frowning at you. You have a feeling he hasn’t bought into the half-truth entirely.

 

“Yeah.” The young man replies, and takes a hand to his mouth to hide a yawn, while you pick up the empty bowl from the table.

 

Only now do you notice the dark circles under his eyes.

 

“Tired?”

 

He rubs the back of his neck with his other hand before answering. “I didn’t sleep much last night.” He confesses, yawning again.

 

You’re once more tempted to ask him what the hell happened, but figure now is not the appropriate time. He’ll tell you when he’s ready, _if_ he so chooses, and not a moment before.

 

Instead, you place the empty bowl on the tray and start gathering the drinking glasses, spoon and chopsticks onto it.

 

“I-I can take those to the kitchen. You don’t need to trouble yourself with that.”

 

“It’s fine.” You say, dismissing the help. To be honest, your mind can use the distraction. “You should go back to bed. You look like you need a good night’s sleep.” You tell him before walking towards the kitchen.

 

You return to the living room after loading the dishwasher to find Akihito facing the window, seemingly enjoying the view of Tokyo’s skyline, much like you were doing earlier on.

 

You move towards him silently, not really wishing to disturb his peace.

 

“It looks like it’s going to rain.” He says, when he senses you've stopped at his side.

 

You follow his line of vision towards the dark clouds hovering just above Tokyo’s city center. No stars are visible in the sky tonight.

 

“You should lay low for the next couple of days.” You tell him after a moment of silence. “To be honest, you should avoid going out altogether. But if you do, stick to the nearby area. The press probably already has scouts out looking for you.”

 

A sudden wave of dread seems to wash over Akihito. He turns to you to say something, but then notices that you’ve put on an overcoat.

 

“You’re leaving.”

 

It’s not so much a question, as it is a resigned statement.

 

“…I have things I have to sort out.” Like figuring out if Shinomori is targeting Akihito; like figuring out if your former lover is in any danger at this point.

 

Your words are evasive enough, but it turns out you weren’t the only one to learn how to read your partner during your mutual 5-year relationship.

 

Akihito turns to face you, biting his lower lip pensively. “If it’s about Shinomori–san… You don’t have to-“

 

“I _want_ to.” You say firmly, and for once he doesn’t antagonize your will.

 

Quite the contrary. He looks away and crosses his arms in front of his chest, retreating for a while into the inner depths of his mind.

 

He’s scared.

 

Despite his apparent brave front, you can tell Akihito is scared, much as you can also tell that you are absolutely capable of anything in order to make him feel safe again; even arranging for Shinomori’s demise, if the situation calls for it.

 

“I stocked the fridge with groceries.” You relay to him, pushing aside your dark thoughts for a moment. “They’ll last you for at least a couple of days. If you need anything, call Nakamura-san. He’ll arrange for whatever you need to be delivered here. You should avoid supermarkets or any crowded places for the time being.”

 

The young man nods in return, eyes still lost on the city’s landscape.

 

“Do you have a cellphone with you?”

 

“I turned it off.”

 

You nod favorably. “Good. Keep it that way. Someone might track down your cellphone otherwise.” You tell him.  “I’ll stop by tomorrow evening to let you know what I was able to gather about Shinomori.”

 

You stay by his side for only another couple of seconds, afraid as you are that you might succumb to the temptation to kiss him despite his will, and start moving in the direction of the hallway.

 

His voice reaches you muffled by the sound of the first heavy raindrops tapping against the windows.

 

“Ryu…”

 

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard your given name being pronounced by his lips that at first you think you’re hearing things.

 

You turn to look back at Akihito, and find him staring at you with an unusual look in his eyes. A battle seems to be raging on within the young man at the moment; one you’re not entirely sure is intended for you to watch firsthand.

 

“Thank you.” He says quietly.

 

“ _Was that what you really wanted to say?_ ” Is what crosses your mind when you hear his words.

 

You nod in silence nevertheless, not sure if he expects you to convey anything in return, but before you can come up with something, he turns back to face the windows and the rain, in a silent request for solitude.

 

Although it pains you, you respect his wish.

 

You too know all too well that some battles need to be fought alone.

 

(To be continued...)


	6. PART VI

It’s past 2 a.m. when you finally force yourself to retire for the night.

 

The last few hours have been spent in a flurry of intense research activity.

 

You’ve actually lost track of the number of phone calls you’ve made with the intent of assessing the current situation with regards to Shinomori, although you have a feeling they may be somewhat on par with the amount of plans you’ve devised so far to protect Akihito from the minister’s clutches.

 

Because one thing has at least become transparent to you during the course of your enquiries this evening. And that is, Shinomori is not happy. Not happy at all. And knowing the man in question as well as you do, you would not be at all surprised if you were to learn that he’s at this very moment conceiving a plan to rid the world of his former son-in-law to be.

 

Having severed ties with his daughter, Akihito no doubt now represents a hindrance to Shinomori. In the powerful man’s eyes, the photographer clearly knows far too much about the family’s shady businesses to be left breathing on his own for much longer.

 

Your sole consolation is that Akihito’s presently safe, and that your connection to him is unknown to Shinomori. Thankfully that fact provides you with the necessary leverage to counteract whatever the minister is planning to do from the relative security of the sidelines.

 

The thought of taking Akihito out of the country for a while once again comes to mind. In fact, the plan strikes you as the most sensible one you’ve thought of so far, even though you’re unsure at this point how receptive the photographer would actually be to the idea.

 

Your mind soon becomes consumed with the younger man again; a restless feeling taking hold of your chest once more, as you recall the night’s earlier events.

 

What was that odd look in Akihito’s eyes all about?, you wonder. For a second you could have sworn that he was about to ask you to stay at the penthouse with him, but then you also suppose that could just be wishful thinking on your part.

 

You hate to admit it, but more than anything you find yourself utterly confused right now.

 

Truth be told, you still don’t know what caused Akihito to turn his back on the wedding with Shinomori’s daughter, and even though it is apparent to you he’s no longer involved with the girl, you’re still unaware of the motivations behind their supposed breakup.

 

After all, just because he sought refuge at your old penthouse does not necessarily mean that he’s interested in patching things up with you in any way. Not romantically, at least.

 

And yet…

 

There was something about the way Akihito stared at you tonight. There was something about his countenance, the manner in which he smiled ever so slightly at your words, the ease with which the two of you soon fell into comfortable conversation with each other that immediately transported you back to the past you shared together.

 

Reliving those moments, however briefly, brought you infinite joy, and at least for a fleeting moment during the course of this surreal evening with Akihito you had an odd yet soothing notion he somehow mirrored the exact same feeling which you experienced.

 

You shake your head in an effort to dispel your musings. You can’t afford to lose focus right now. Akihito’s safety is more important than whatever anxiety causing a storm inside your heart at the moment.

 

You walk towards your master bathroom, hoping a warm shower before bed will help to straighten your jumbled thoughts.

 

The floor tiles under your feet are cold to the touch as you turn on the showerhead above you. You let the tepid water cascade down your back, while you place the palms of your hands on the tiled wall in front of you for support.

 

Steam soon clouds the glass panels surrounding your body and you breathe in deeply, while the water makes your wet hair cling to the sides of your face.

 

You try to empty your brain of all thoughts, but soon the image of Akihito leaning against the living room’s doorframe earlier tonight pops into your head.

 

You attempt to fight the memory at first, knowing it has the potential to seize control of your mind, but you soon recall the appealing way Akihito’s own damp hair clung to his face, and the manner in which the light from the living room’s lamps reflected on the skin of his bare shoulders and arms.

 

Soon your imagination takes over, and it is as if he is there in the shower with you and you’re taking your time to undress him, breaking the kiss you are both sharing at the moment only long enough so that you're able to remove the white tank top that covers his torso, which you then drop to the floor next to his feet; its fabric already soaking yet.

 

You imagine Akihito laughing then, clearly amused by your poorly concealed lust, just before you silence him by assaulting his already swollen lips once again; all the while bringing the younger man closer to you by wrapping your arms possessively around the small of his back.

 

He eventually sighs into your mouth; a low, sweet sound that reaches your ears while his hands move from your shoulders up towards the back of your neck and then further upwards, making a mess out of your wet hair when his fingers travel through it.

 

Your own hands release their hold on Akihito’s body only when they travel to the front of his jeans, unbuttoning them ever so slowly, to the point Akihito cries out in frustration.

 

You grin conceitedly, willing for once to prolong the foreplay for as long as possible, and to tease the young man further, your right hand pushes past the waistband of his boxers so that your fingers tenderly graze the erection still concealed within them.

 

The action causes Akihito to break the kiss amidst a loud moan, and when he next looks at you, eyes half-open, he’s smiling, and you become certain in that very moment that he craves and needs you in his life, as much as you crave and need him in yours.

 

You snap awake from your daydream then, just as you feel a familiar tingling sensation rising in your groin.

 

Bewildered, you look down to find yourself fully erect and dripping pre-cum.

 

You turn off the showerhead for a moment, staring surprised at your full blown erection.

 

 _Who the hell are you trying to fool?_ , you find yourself thinking.

 

Every minute you spend away from Akihito is robbing you of a piece of your sanity.

 

* * *

 

By 3.30 a.m. you’ve given up on any hope of sound sleep.

 

So much so, that for the last twenty minutes you’ve been pacing around your bedroom, trying to come up with pertinent enough excuses to allow you to show up at your old penthouse at this ungodly hour without frightening the hell out of Akihito.

 

One thing’s for sure. You can’t go another night without knowing if you are dead in Akihito’s heart; if there isn’t the slightest kindle of affection towards you left in him that would allow you to at least try to reignite the old flame your hearts once shared.

 

You will forever protect him. That much you know your own heart has doomed you to do long ago, but you need to know in which capacity you will be allowed to do so. Ex-lover? Friend? Acquaintance? Lover?

 

You can’t take this uncertainty any longer. You need to know once and for all where it is that you stand. If only to grant yourself time to finally mourn the loss of his love for you.

 

You’re walking past the entrance to your walk-in-closet for the nth-time in the last few minutes when your gaze accidentally falls upon the box placed above your shirts’ rack; the very same box which only yesterday afternoon you requested Kirishima to dispose of. That whole scene now seems to you to have taken place a lifetime ago though.

 

You don’t even think twice before moving towards the object and taking it down from its shelf. Its lid soon dropping to the floor, you take out the jacket neatly folded inside it and hold it between your hands; the words JAPAN once again staring you in the face.

 

This time around though, the jacket makes you smile warmly.

 

It’s about bloody time you return it to its rightful owner.

 

With that thought in mind, less than five minutes later you’re out the front door en route to face your destiny.

 

(to be continued...)


	7. PART VII

You drive towards your old penthouse in a sort of trance; your grey Bugatti Chiron cruising silently through Tokyo’s dormant streets.

Out of the six sports cars currently adorning your apartment’s parking garage, the Bugatti’s your favorite. It has always been.

You’re very much aware it’s not exactly an inconspicuous ride, but then again, a 270 million yen car never really is. It would definitely not be your first choice for a day out on the town, considering how it draws far too much attention from passersby, but its quiet engine and impeccable traction make it the perfect ride for a rainy night just like this one.

Plus, out of all of your available rides, the Bugatti reminds you of Akihito the most. And not just because the photographer was the one who pick it out for you… in a way, at least.

Long before your breakup, during one of your shared morning breakfasts (your secret favorite time of the day), you casually dropped the hint that you were looking to expand your vehicle collection.

Akihito, still half-asleep and idly perusing through a sports cars magazine at the time, cheekily showed you a picture of the latest obscenely-priced Bugatti to hit the market whilst joking that you could always blow your entire retirement savings on a custom model of said car.

You half admit to buying the Bugatti Chiron just so you could revel at the gob smacked look that descended upon Akihito’s face when, a couple of days later, the latter saw the brand new sports car being delivered to the garage of your apartment building.

There was no denying that Akihito swiftly fell in love with the Bugatti though.

You used to take it out on rainy nights like this one, and let the young man work the engine to its fullest power on the deserted suburban highways just outside Tokyo.

The gleam that would flash in his eyes as Akihito grabbed hold of the steering wheel and stepped hard on the accelerator paddle never failed to make you wonder just how much of a troublemaker he had been during his infamous lawbreaking teenage years.

Something wild indeed seemed to take over the photographer whenever he was in the driver’s seat of the Bugatti. 

Not to mention the car did wonders to loosen up Akihito’s usually subdued displays of lust. For it somehow messed up with the younger man’s hormones in such a manner that the latter would invariably end each nightly drive session by abruptly stopping the Bugatti in whichever secluded place he could find and all but jump you on the passenger’s seat.

Not that it ever occurred to you to complain about it. After all, a lustful Akihito, willing to take the initiative for a change, was always an entertaining sight to behold.

With the past still in mind, you soon find yourself approaching your former street. Not wishing to draw the night concierge’s attention to your presence in the vicinities, you drive around the back of the apartment building towards the private garage area, which connects to your old penthouse through an also private elevator.

On your way up, Akihito’s jacket firmly held in hand, you mentally run one last time through the list of excuses you’ve come up with to explain to the younger man what has possessed you to stop by the apartment at this unusual hour.

Each excuse now sounds to you more pathetic than the next one though.

You have a keen feeling that you stay staring at the front door to the penthouse for a good five minutes without moving a muscle; your brain continuously willing your body to action, but to no real avail.

Eventually you see more than sense your hand moving towards the keyhole, but just as you are about to insert the house key in it, the lock clicks a couple of times and the front door swings inwards.

You soon find a pair of brown eyes staring up at you with a mix of surprise and confusion visible in them.

“Asami?!”

You’re about to greet Akihito when you notice the odd way his clothes are clinging to his skin.

“You’re soaked.” You exclaim with a raised eyebrow, surveying his wet clothes.

The younger man looks down at his jeans and tank top with a start, seeming to only now realize the drenched state he’s in.

“Huh, I dozed off on the balcony’s lounge chair.” He confesses sleepily, while pulling wet bangs away from his forehead. “It must have drizzled while I was sleeping.”

“You’re shaking all over.” You observe, and quickly step onto the _genkan_ and close the door behind you, thus cutting off the draught coming from outside.

Akihito rubs his hands on his arms in an apparent attempt to warm himself up.  “I’ve just woken up.” He tells you. “I was on my way to the bathroom to fetch a towel when I saw light coming from the hallway outside.” His eyes search yours again, still confused by your unexpected presence. “What are you doing here so late? It’s barely four in the morning.”

You open your mouth intent on answering him; your mind running through its backup list of excuses again, but no words end up passing through your lips.

You watch as Akihito tilts his head to the side, not sure what to make of your silence. “…Is something wrong?”

The way his hair clings to the side of his neck makes you swallow in silence. Does Akihito really not have a damn clue of the power he has over you? You can clearly feel your control slowly starting to slip away.

It’s around then that the younger man notices the jacket.

A shallow gasp escapes his lips as a result. “Is that…?” He says, eyes wide, recognizing the item.

You let Akihito take it from your hand.

“Where did you find it?” He asks with a smile that travels all the way up to his eyes.

“I thought I’d lost it.” He adds, wasting no time putting the jacket on and snuggling against its warmth.

 You sense your lips curling upwards as you witness the scene.

“ _Funny you’d say that… I thought I’d lost you too._ ”, you think to yourself.

Or so it appears to you, for the moment you notice Akihito unexpectedly freeze, you realize you have actually voiced your thoughts out loud this time.

When the younger man next looks up at you his eyes are widened in disbelief; his breath seemingly caught in his throat.

“W-What did you just say?” He whispers uncertainly.

You find you have neither the strength nor the willpower to fight your feelings anymore, and so you let yourself go.

With one step you cover the distance separating the two of you; your arms acting out of their own accord by circling round Akihito’s back possessively, your warm lips soon finding themselves covering his chilled ones.

Something akin to a relieved moan escapes your throat when you feel the younger man’s lips slowly parting, allowing your tongue to delve between them, yet your hands still feel his body shaking all over. Whether it is due to cold or fear though, is something you need to know, but dread to.   

“If you don’t want this, send me away.” You whisper against his mouth, reluctantly breaking the kiss. “But do it quickly,” You plead, gently leaning your forehead against Akihito's. “…or I won’t be able to stop.”  

His voice reaches you ragged, trembling.  “I… I don’t want…” You hear him mumble, and your heart stops; a dark chill running down your spine. 

But it turns out there is more to Akihito’s words.

“I… don’t want you to stop.” He says quietly, returning your embrace while at the same time burying his face on the front of your shirt.

You’re almost afraid to speak. Afraid your eagerness to hold Akihito, to have him all to yourself is making you hear things. “…Are you sure?” You ask, surprised to find that your voice is trembling too.

He nods his answer against your chest.

“Yes.” He says amidst a sob or a laugh, you’re not quite sure.

You can’t see his face, but you can feel the way his hands are fiercely clinging to the back of your shirt, just as you can feel the way your heart is about to burst.

“Yes.” Akihito repeats, and slowly lifts his teary face up towards yours again.

That is all the encouragement you need.

With a sigh of relief, you bend down and capture his lips with your own once more.

(to be continued)


	8. PART VIII

You lean your face against the side of Akihito’s neck and breathe in deeply, renewing your mind’s acquaintance to the scent of his skin.

The faintest smell of the kids’ shampoo he was always so ridiculously fond of washing his hair with instantly reaches your nose, but you suppress the urge to tease him about it, fearful that any joke, however harmless, may end up ruining the perfection of the present moment.

Despite the attention your hands have been paying to his body for the last few minutes, Akihito’s still shivering from cold, yet the young man does not seem at all inclined to move from the spot he currently finds himself in: cocooned between your warm body and one of the hallway’s walls.

Perhaps like you, he too fears that moving too much might cause the spell that seems to have befallen the two of you to somehow break.

The front of your designer shirt is by now soaked through with the rain water transferred from Akihito’s tank top, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your only immediate concerns are that of indulging in this moment as much as possible, and that of pretending, if only for a few hours, that Shinomori and a potential life threatening situation do not linger over Akihito’s head.

A chuckle escapes the photographer’s lips as your fingers graze the sides of his torso; an area which you suddenly recall is particularly ticklish to him.

Instead of moving your hands to another spot though, you decide to torment him further by lightly tracing your fingers up and down the muscles over his ribs.

As a result, a violent shiver soon washes over Akihito’s body.

“Hey!” He protests, but does not attempt to escape your embrace in any way.

You feign innocence.

“What?” Is your casual remark at his complaint.

Akihito _knows_ you however, and so can easily see through your wolfish-like deceit.    

The most genuine of smiles graces his lips as he leans the back of his head against the wall, regarding you through half-opened eyelids.

“You really never change, do you?”

You find yourself grinning at him.

How you were able to convince yourself, even if only for a moment, that you could somehow go on with your life without Akihito being a part of it, is beyond your understanding right now.

With a gentle pull the photographer is once again leaning against your torso and so you take advantage of the proximity to leave a trail of fiery kisses from the base of his neck all the way up to his ear.

Akihito responds to your caresses by grabbing hold of the sides of your pants, bringing your body even closer to his.

So far you’ve been able to ignore the tingling sensation in your groin, but when Akihito all but glues himself to your body, you find yourself quite unable to disregard the feel of his own erection against your thigh.

“Asami…”

Your name sounds like melted honey thus spoken from his lips, and a grin ends up appearing on your face again.

He wants you, _all_ of you, right now, without reserves, and his overwhelming lust for you is so palpable and intense it is impossible to resist.

You bring your lips close to his ear. “Call me by my name.” You whisper into it.

You feel more than hear his laughter; small gusts of wind against the side of your face.

“Didn’t I just do that?”

“No. Not Asami… Call me by my given name.”

But Akihito falls silent then, so much so that you cease the assault on his ear and straighten your back so that you can look him in the eyes.

You find him blushing, and his sudden bashfulness feels so familial and captivating, you’re immediately transported down memory lane, to scenes of your past life together.

Like the one when he first called you Ryuichi - an inadvertent slip of the tongue brought upon by an intense moment of pleasure during sex, which nevertheless caused Akihito to avoid looking you in the eyes for a whole week afterwards.

Thankfully, with time you learnt exactly how to counteract his inherent shyness.

“Come on, humor me.” You say, whilst your lips tentatively graze his forehead.

It takes the younger man a moment to accede to your request, but when he does his quiet voice makes you smile.

“…Ryu.” He says.

“Again.”

“Ryu.”

“Again.”

“Ryu, Ryu,…Ryuichi.”

For the first time since you can remember, you feel a ridiculous urge to cry; to pour out your soul into the world. Never have you felt so relieved as in this moment.

You lean your head against the young man’s shoulder, and when you next speak up, you can’t really tell if you are doing it with your mind or your heart.

“I thought it was hopeless.”

It takes Akihito a couple of seconds to understand the meaning behind your words.

When he does though, his arms tighten their embrace around your torso.

“For a while, I thought so too.” Is his quiet admission.

His remark is a painful reminder of just how close you were of losing him for good. And all because of an incident which to you now seems so unimportant.

“Forgive me. I acted like a fool.”

You can instantly tell your apology surprises Akihito. But can you really blame him? After all, in all of your years together he has only really heard you admit you’ve screwed up once before.

Your confession seems to render the young man speechless. Instead of saying something in return, he nods in reply to your confession and gently leans his face towards yours seemingly intent on sealing your apology with a kiss.

Just as your lips are about to touch though, his body is overwhelmed by an unexpected sneeze, followed closely by another, and yet another, this last one so violent that Akihito momentarily loses his balance; his shoulder hitting the wall in front of you.

“Sorry.” The young man says apologetically, whilst rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Way to kill off the moment.” He jokes. 

“You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get out of those clothes.” You admonish. “Come with me.” And wasting no time you grab hold of his wrist, gently leading him down the hallway towards the master suite.

“Take your clothes off. I’ll go fetch a towel for you.” You tell him as soon as you’re inside the room.

You start moving towards the master suite’s bathroom but from the corner of your eyes sense that Akihito isn’t himself moving at all.

Sure enough, when you look over your shoulder you find that the younger man is standing next to the bed, staring at it intently with a faint blush plastered on his cheeks.

“What is it?” You ask with curiosity.

Akihito startles at the sound of your voice. “N-Nothing.” He stutters, and immediately starts fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, seemingly intent on taking them off first.

Shrugging, you continue to walk towards the bathroom, clicking the lights on once you reach it and directing your steps towards the linen closet positioned next to the sink. However, as soon as you pass next to the large mirror located above the sink you stop.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror you realise that the front of your shirt looks just as soaked as Akihito’s tank top.

Your first instinct is to remove it, lest you’ll be sneezing like Akihito in no time, but just as you're about to finish unbuttoning the shirt, your chest and stomach almost fully in view now, you suddenly recall the younger man’s sheepish expression as he regarded the bed.

The memory of it gives you pause.

…Is Akihito perhaps thinking you want to have sex with him right away? Is that why he was acting so quiet and self-conscious just now? And what kind of message will you give off if you return to the bedroom sans your shirt on?

You notice your reflection frowning at you in the mirror.

But Akihito does _want_ you. That much you are sure of. You could _feel_ his want and need for you as you embraced each other in the hallway earlier on.

Then what?

A suspicion starts forming in the back of your mind.

Could it be that Akihito’s hesitant?

After all, he was in a straight relationship for the past two years. It’s unlikely he’s engaged his own body in any sort of anal pleasures during this time.

Could it be then that he’s reluctant to start having sex with you again?

You shake your head to dispel the thought.

Truth be told, nothing would make you happier than to make love to Akihito fully and thoroughly tonight, but the last thing you want is to upset him, or to somehow ruin this night for him.

Anyhow, you can always survive without sex… at least for a while. And there are always a number of other pleasurable things you can think of doing to him that do not involve penetration at all.

When you notice the uncharacteristically foolish smirk that is plastered on your reflection’s lips, you finally come back to your senses.

Turning your gaze away from the mirror, you grab a towel from the linen closet and walk back to the bedroom.

You find Akihito fully naked, sitting on the edge of the bed in a seemingly relaxed manner,… that is, until the younger man notices you looking at him and responds to it by immediately sitting up straight and bringing his hands to the front of his body in an attempt to conceal his groin area from view.

You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from laughing out loud at his unusual display of decorum, and move towards him in silence, proceeding to dry off his hair with the towel as soon as you stop in front of him.

“Huh…I can do that on my own, you know?” Akihito says a few seconds into it.

“Really? Aren’t your hands busy at the moment?” You tease.

You can instantly feel him freeze under the towel, and sure enough when you lift it his cheeks are flaming red.

“What’s up with you all of a sudden?” You chuckle, and with a hand coach the young man’s chin upwards, so you can look him in the eyes.

His gaze shifts elsewhere though, while his cheeks turn even redder. “I-It’s nothing.” He mumbles quietly. “…I guess I’m kind of nervous, that’s all. It’s been awhile, you know?”

So it seems you were right, after all.

With a quiet sigh, you release the hold you have on his chin and sit down beside him, pulling a hand through your hair.

“We don’t have to do anything, Akihito.” You tell him, secretly wishing that the tingling sensation in your groin would somehow subside. “I’m content with just sitting beside you like this. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You watch him biting his lower lip hesitantly for a moment, but just as you’re about to add to your last remark, he picks up your hand with his own and brings both to rest between his legs.  

“But what if I want you to?” He asks.

His straightforwardness catches you off guard, rendering you motionless for a few moments, even as you feel his length slowly hardening against the palm of your hand.

When he smiles at you though, you smile right back, bringing your face closer to his.

“Then I promise I’ll go slow.”

And ever so gently you fingers close around his erection.

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PART IX will be the last one. Hope you enjoyed reading this one :)


	9. PART IX

“Akihito, wake up.”

The arm resting across your stomach twitches, but that’s about it.

“Akihito, come on. We need to talk.” You say as your hand comes up to massage the back of his neck.

The caress makes the young man snuggle closer to you, more awake, it seems, than he wants you to believe.

You hear him exhaling softly against his pillow, relaxed and happy.

Happiness is overwhelming you too at the moment.

You try getting out of bed, but Akihito’s grip on you tightens immediately; his thighs securing your leg in place, so much so, that you’re only able to lift your torso from the mattress; your left elbow supporting its full weight.

“Akihito.” You call again, and use a hand to give a vigorous rub to the younger man’s hip underneath the comforter.

Daylight drifts upon the bed from outside, where the rain has not yet ceased its attack on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite.

Faced with different circumstances you’d just sleep in, fully indulging in the warmth of Akihito’s body, but the new day brings with it the bitter recollection of the potential danger currently hovering over the photographer’s head.

It’s time you start putting your remediation plan in action.

Akihito yawns contently, just before turning on his side so that he can better face you. As he does so though, you notice that he winces ever so slightly, as if he’s suddenly in pain.

“How are you feeling?” You ask with a hint of concern.

The young man blinks a couple of times before answering, adjusting his eyes to daylight.

“Hm…my back hurts.” He says; voice still groggy from sleep. “And it feels tingly…down there.”

The red hue that appears on his cheeks as he mentions so makes you grin.

“Glad to know I did not disappoint.” You tell him, and lean down to place an open mouth kiss on the younger man’s shoulder.

You return to your previous position just in time to see Akihito rolling his eyes at you, but the smile framing his lips at least assures you that he found your remark amusing enough.

“What time is it anyway?” He asks, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“It’s close to eight thirty.”

“ _Wha-?!_ ” He exclaims. “It’s way too early! Wake me up near eleven, will you?”

And he would surely have proceeded to turn his back on you, pulling the comforter over his head, were it not for the firm grip your hand currently has on the side of his torso.

“Akihito, I need to take you out of the country.” You say; your tone dead serious all of a sudden.

He stares up at you in shock, an eyebrow raised in an equal display of surprise, but then a wave of understanding seems to rush through his mind because he ends up smiling bitterly at your words.

“Is it because of Shinomori-san?” He asks in a low voice.

You nod once in reply.

“…Is the situation _that_ bad?”

You sigh quietly before answering. You might as well be fully transparent with Akihito on this. “I don’t know yet, to be honest. But I’m not taking any chances.”

Despite your inner apprehension about the circumstances at hand, you nevertheless attempt to appear unconcerned, so as to not make Akihito feel anxious.

“It will only be for a few days.” You tell him reassuringly. “I promise.”

Akihito’s reply ends up surprising you.

“No.” The young man retorts, making you frown instantly.

“…What do you mean _‘No’_?”

“No.” Akihito repeats, sitting up in bed despite the jolt of pain that shoots up from his lower back as he does so. “I-I’m not running away.”

You confess to feeling momentarily stunned by his words. Yet something about your expression seems to quickly change in response to his nay, because Akihito’s resolve appears to start faltering the moment he turns to look you in the eyes.

“I…I just can’t let you be the one to fix this situation for me. Shinomori-san is my problem, not yours. I don’t want you to get involved in this mess.”

You suppose a part of you simply forgot just how stubborn and naive the younger man can be sometimes. He truly has no idea of what minister Shinomori is capable of.

Either way, you try your best to remain cool and composed.

“Akihito, this subject is _not_ up to discussion.” You announce firmly. “I’m leaving for Macau today on a business trip and _you_ are coming with me.”

“No!” The photographer retorts defiantly. And you suspect you must be visibly close to fuming at the moment because he quickly adds: “Listen, I-I’ll talk to Shinomori-san personally. I’ll make him understand I’m not a threat to him. The things I know about his busines-“

“ _Akihito_ , Shinomori is a murderous tyrant. He makes Mikhail Arbatov and the Russian’s entire mob look like a bunch of choir boys. _You_ are _not_ going anywhere near him! And if I have to drag you kicking and screaming to the airport so be it, but you are leaving Japan with me _today_.”

He turns his face away from you, all the while biting his lower lip. You can tell that you’ve upset him, but it’s not like you can really avoid it. It’s important for Akihito to fully understand the predicament he is in.

You nevertheless do not like seeing him troubled in such a way and so you extend your arm, resting the palm of your hand on his cheek; a tender gesture you’ve only ever reserved for Akihito.

“For once, do as I tell you to.” You request. “Please.”

His hand comes up, slowly detaching your own from his cheek. He doesn’t let go of it though, instead entwining his fingers with your own.

“I can’t...” He confesses after a moment of silence; a sad look suddenly clouding his features.

But just as you prepare yourself for a major quarrel to start between the two of you, he unexpectedly adds:

“It’s Mayu…She…”

 _Oh_ … the girl. You confess you forgot all about her in the midst of your recent bliss.

“What about her?” You ask, while attempting to ignore a sudden uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’re not sure you like where this conversation is going.

“I need to talk to her.” Akihito says. “End things properly between us. I owe her that much.”

“…What happened between the two of you anyway?”

The young man steals a quickly glance at you, before re-directing his gaze towards your joined hands.

“She said she couldn’t marry me.” He lets you know. “…Not while I still had you on my mind.”

You arch an eyebrow at the revelation. “Did you tell her about us?”

But he shakes his head in reply.

“She knew I’d dated a man before her, but I never told her your name.”

“Then how did she…?”

“It was because of the photography exhibition. Mayu saw the way you were looking at me from across the venue. She said it was like you knew me inside out,… like we had somehow belonged to each other at some point.”

“ _Smart girl_ ”, you think to yourself. Then again, the girl being Shinomori’s daughter, such a thing shouldn’t really be all that surprising. The ruthless minister has always had an uncanny aptitude to read other people’s souls. He probably passed that characteristic down to his daughter.

The sound of Akihito’s sad chuckle brings your mind back to the present.

“Mayu said I started acting weird the moment I saw you.” He continues; his voice low. “That’s when she said she knew.” He pauses for a moment, momentarily lost in his memories. “She told me she couldn’t be with me until I got you out of my head for good.”

“And you?”

“…I told her I wasn’t sure I could do it.”

Your fingers squeeze his tighter, and you feel a sudden urge to make love to him all over again.

“When was all this?” You ask.

“The night before the wedding. After you stopped by the gallery, I went to see Mayu. I was pretty much a wreck by then.” Akihito admits. “I think she had been expecting me…  She had been crying,…but  still, she managed to act so calm throughout our talk.”

“She sounds like she’s a brave young woman.” You say, instantly surprised by your own remark. Shinomori Mayu nearly stole Akihito from you for good, after all. You’re astonished to find you feel any sort of sympathy for her at all.

The young man nods at the compliment nevertheless.

“Yeah, that’s what Fei Long said too. He also said that the media was going to go insane when news broke that the wedding ceremony was off.”

Hearing the name of your business nemesis out of the blue baffles you.

“Fei Long?! But didn’t you see him _before_ all that?”

Akihito nods in reply, but then adds: “I saw him in the afternoon at the gallery, but when I got home after leaving Mayu, his limo was parked in front of my apartment building. It seems Fei Long had been waiting for me there for a couple of hours.”

“What?”

Your shock is so intense that you sit up in bed in front of Akihito.

“Fei Long took me out for drinks and… well, we had a long talk about me,… and you, and about what happened in the last few days.”

The photographer glances up at you again to find you speechless.

“Fei Long told me that he met you at Dracaena earlier in the evening and that he tried to talk some sense into you, but that we were both acting like stubborn brats… He said it was clear as day you were still in love with me...” Akihito stops talking for a moment, his free hand coming up to massage the back of his neck; his face impossibly red. “I really wanted to believe him, but after meeting you at the gallery I didn’t know what to think anym-“.

The sentence dies in Akihito’s mouth when your lips cover his own in a passionate kiss that soon has the younger man melting in your arms.

You cannot believe your ears. Feilong, of all people! The man who just minutes ago you thought had contributed to your misery two nights before, had instead been secretly working as matchmaker extraordinaire for the past couple of days.

A content moan escapes the back of Akihito’s throat just before you break the kiss, allowing the two of you to catch your breaths.

“I never stopped, Akihito.” You assure him. “Never.”

He smiles sheepishly at your confession. “One more reason why I need to talk to Mayu.” He says. “I need her to know that I can’t marry her.”

You release your hold on him with a huff, and slowly pull a hand through your hair.

“Fine.” You tell him after brooding in silence for a moment.  “Call her then. Arrange to meet her today. I’ll drive you to the meeting place, _and_ I’ll wait in the car until you’re done talking to her. After that, I’m driving us straight to the airport.”

“But-“

“No ‘buts’ Takaba. I’ll concede this much, but that is it. To me, your safety is far more important than that girl’s peace of mind.”

For a second you have a feeling that Akihito’s going to stick his tongue out at you (he never did enjoy being bossed around), but instead he ends up giving you a peck on the lips.

“Thanks.” He says cheekily, but soon his expression changes to one of inner musing.  

“I’m down to one clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans. What am I supposed to wear in Macau?”

“I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe once we get there.”

“What if we-?” He starts, but you know him well enough to guess the rest of the question, so you quickly cut him off. 

“Forget about it. We’re not stopping by your apartment to fetch you clothes. You should know better than anyone that there are probably a handful of photographers in front of your building right now waiting for you to show up. We’re not going anywhere near that part of town.”

This time around Akihito does stick his tongue out at you.

You retort by giving him a playful smack on the bum.

“Now go run us a bath, will you? We need one.”

He follows your gaze down to the sticky mess that is your stomach and his inner thighs.

“Huh… I guess we do.”

A peck of encouragement on the neck soon has Akihito on the move towards the bathroom, but the photographer only manages to take half a dozen steps before his legs start to wobble and he’s forced to lean a hand against the wall for support; his other hand coming up to massage his lower back at the same time.

His affliction makes you grin with amusement though. “You look like you’re having trouble walking there. Shall I carry you to the bathroom?”

He answers the question by throwing a pillow straight at your face.

“Save room for me in the bathtub.” You ask him, amidst quiet laughter. “I’ll be right there. I just need to make a phone call.”

You’re not really sure if Akihito’s cursing under his breath at the moment. You're far too entertained with watching his current predicament; his steps resemble those of a toddler who has just learnt how to walk.

“Hey, I’ll let you rub my back and all.” You tease him further.

“Dream on!”

You wait until you hear the bathroom door being shut, and get out of bed yourself, rummaging through the pile of last night’s discarded clothes in search of your iPhone.

Once you find it, you run through your contacts’ list, selecting a specific number; all the while as your feet direct you towards the windows, which afford you with a spectacular view of downtown Tokyo. Hands down, the best thing about this penthouse has always been its breathtaking city views.

Interestingly, the recipient of your phone call does not give you the opportunity to start the conversation with a greeting.

“Oh please tell me you did not screw things up with Akihito _again_!” You hear as soon as the call is picked up on the other side of the line.

It’s perhaps the uncharacteristic exasperated tone of the other man’s voice that is curiously making you want to laugh at the moment, but despite that, you somehow manage to control yourself.

 “Everything’s ok.” You reply in a cool manner. “Akihito is with me now.”

“Well, that’s certainly a relief to know! I was beginning to wonder just how many windows of opportunity I needed to provide you with.”

A moment of silence ensues.

“…I owe you a ‘Thank you’, Fei Long.”

“Oh, spare me.  Expressions of gratitude do not suit your character, Asami.”  The Chinese man interjects. “Besides, if I went to any trouble in the past few days, it most certainly was not for the sake of _your_ own happiness. If anything, your happiness is a mere side effect in this story. Let there be no doubts about it!”

Truth be told, you kind of expected a retort of this kind from the other man.

“Well, even if it was only for Akihito’s sake, I still owe you one.”

Is it an amused chuckle what reaches your ear from the other side of the line?

“I suppose being owed a favor by Asami Ryuichi is not an inconvenience.” Fei Long retorts. “I’m sure with time I’ll be able to think of an appropriate compensation for my participation in the wedding’s demise.”

So it was indeed a chuckle what you heard.  And you know that, because you're hearing another right now.

“Is it safe to presume you’ll be late to today’s business meeting then?” Fei Long asks.

“Yes. I’m still in Japan. I’ll be flying to Macau only in the afternoon. Akihito has an…unfinished business he needs to take care off first.”

“…I see. Very well, I’ll reserve a dinner table at the Ritz-Carlton for tonight. Do bring Akihito with you to the dinner, will you? The two of us didn’t have a chance to finish our conversation the other day.”

Your subsequent silence makes Fei Long openly laugh out loud this time around.

“Oh do lighten up, will you? And make sure you don’t lose Akihito again, Asami. You’ve been in an insufferable mood for the past two years without him. It was frankly annoying to be around you.”

Fei Long does not give you a chance to counterattack his statements though.

“See you in the evening, Asami.” He says, clearly still amused, just before he abruptly ends the call.

You don’t have much time to dwell on his words though.

“Hey!” Akihito suddenly calls from behind. “Who were you talking to just now?”

You turn round to find the photographer leaning against the bathroom’s doorframe, gloriously naked and very much unaware of the effect his perfectly proportioned body has on you.

“A friend, I suppose.” You say in reply to his question.

Something about your tone makes Akihito tilt his head to the side with curiosity though.   

“The bath’s ready.” He nevertheless announces, and his smile brings with it the promise of time well spent.

You can feel yourself relaxing already; that much is the power the younger man has over you.

“Lead the way then.” You tell him, returning the warm smile.

 “ _No, Fei Long_.” You think to yourself as the photographer extends his arm to you, so that you can both walk towards the bath together.  “ _I will never lose Akihito again_.”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your kudos, comments, feedback and for reminding me from time to time to not give up on this story! Without your encouragement I’d probably still be working on it 20 years from now. So thanks again and to all, Happy Readings ^^


End file.
